


The Journey Is The Destination

by lennongirl



Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Europe, Light Angst, M/M, My big ass old school European Travel Fic, Recreational Drug Use, Road Trips, Travelling Europe, het references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:04:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennongirl/pseuds/lennongirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Orlando and Viggo meet in Spain under strange circumstances and travel through Europe together in Viggo's truck, getting to know each other and themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. London-Málaga-Algeciras

**Author's Note:**

> Written in March/April 2004. All mistakes within this fic are mine. I’m sorry if I made any errors concerning the geography of a country mentioned in this fic. The same goes for possible errors concerning administrative procedures. I tried to research as best as I could. Also, it’s not my intention to offend any country or its people in any way. It’s fiction, please keep that in mind. In case you're not very familiar with Europe, there's a visual aid at the end of every chapter - these are the original graphics I used back in 2004. They look totally crappy, silly and outdated these days, but well, it's the original stuff. Enjoy your trip!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orlando tries to free his soul by travelling as a backpacker.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I would just like to inform you that there’s a small thunderstorm going on right beneath us. The turbulence we’re flying through now is normal and nothing for you to worry about. We should pass this zone of bad weather quickly and everything will calm down in a few minutes. However, I’d like to ask you to remain seated and fasten your seatbelts. Thank you very much.”

The crackling voice goes off as quickly as it started and the cabin is filled with the monotonous humming sound of the aircraft again. There’s not much more noise around, since most people are to busy clenching their fingers into the arm of their chairs or pressing their noses against the windows to see if maybe we’re approaching the ground in a way we shouldn’t be.

As it is, I’m also quite terrified by the shaky way I’m travelling through the air. But I can’t show it, not like my fellow passengers do. And that’s because of the tiny brunette sitting next to me.

“This will be over soon…right?” she whispers in an unsteady voice. I can’t help myself and take her hand, softly stroking the back of her thumb with mine.

“Of course it will, you’ll see. Just relax, everything will be fine, just like the captain said. Before too long, we’ll be enjoying the sun of Spain and laughing about this.”

She lets go a sigh of relief and bats her eyelashes at me. “Thanks, Orlando. You’re so very kind.”

I smile in return and, when the plane makes another little loop, turn away from her for a second. I can’t let her see the expression of horror that must be clearly visible on my face. Maybe I should’ve thought about becoming an actor instead of trying to become a businessman. Today’s performance should get me into any acting class. Maybe, maybe, maybe. As if I’m ever gonna find out.

But that’s what this journey is all about, making a change and taking chances you’ve never even considered before. Like Julie, the girl next to me. Five days ago, I didn’t even know her. 

I study economics and the term has just ended for summer. I spend the days working in a small café. It was this café Julie chose to spend the afternoon in on that fateful day. It wasn’t a good day for business, so I had some time and we started chatting. When my shift was over, she asked me if I wanted to join her. Since she wasn’t just nice to talk to but also to look at, I didn’t hesitate. Two coffees, one bottle of white wine and a shared antipasti platter later, I felt as if I’d known her forever. 

Julie was an exchange student from Paris who’d just finished her studies in London. However, she had no plans to get back to France right away. Instead, she planned to travel, see the world, free her mind and soul. “Ever read ‘The Beach’?” she asked me, “that’s what I want to do. Travel as a backpacker for a while, as long as I’m still young and can do it. Fuck the establishment, just flee from the daily routine.” 

An idea like that had never occurred to me before. Here I was, Orlando Bloom, 23 years young, and stuck in a boring life already. Finished school, started studying, about to become a serious businessman way too fast. Had I missed all the fun?

Julie’s idea settled in my mind and wouldn’t let go. She’d given me her number and I rang her two days later. “Why don’t you come along with me, Orlando?” she’d suggested. I told her I would.

To put it mildly: my mother wasn’t pleased with my sudden idea of roaming all these ‘unsafe countries’ with a girl I didn’t really know. Neither was my boss when I told him I needed some time off on short notice. He fired me instead. I didn’t mind. I was about to become a free man, and even started to pity him, knowing he’d be stuck in his place.

Julie had a plan, but only for the first parts of our journey. We’d head to Marrakech, Morocco first. “That’s where the Hippie spirit is still alive,” she’d told me. We’d check it out and then decide where we’d go next spontaneously. It sounded great. And it didn’t really matter to me where we were going, as long as I was far away from my already boring life. And as long as I was with Julie, whom I’d started to fancy to a certain degree. Up to the point where I wanted to seduce her on some remote beach. 

That’s why I’m here now, stuck in this plane bound to Malaga. Julie has a friend in Spain who’ll meet us at the airport and take us to Gibraltar. From there, we’ll take the ferry to Tangier, Morocco. If only this plane would land safely – and as soon as possible.

******

About one and a half hours later, Julie and I leave the airport building and are greeted by the warm Spanish sun…and a guy who looks as if he’s a lost son of Julio Iglesias.

“Juan!” Julie lets her backpack fall to the ground and runs towards this wannabe Latin lover, who awaits her with both arms wide open. As he hugs her tightly, I slowly approach them, carrying both Julie’s and mine backpack. When I arrive, Juan has let go off her, and they have started a conversation in Spanish of which I don’t get anything. Some minutes later, Julie seems to remember my presence and turns around.

“Oh, how rude of me…Juan, this is Orlando; Orlando, this is my good friend Juan.”

Juan smiles way too much and claps me on the back. “Hola, Orlando, how are you,” he says, pronouncing my name in a way that sounds like ‘Whorelando’, and I immediately hate him. Not only because he misuses my name, but also because of the way his gaze wanders back to Julie after he has mumbled his greetings. 

“Hi Juan,” I force myself to say, mainly to make a good impression in front of Julie. “I’m fine, thanks, and you?”

“Oh,” Juan says and looks at me again, “I’m good, but not my English. Not speaking very much, sorry.” He starts to giggle, Julie joins in, and since I don’t want to be a spoilsport, I join in as well.

After we finished our bonding moment of general amusement, Juan waves towards the parking space. “My car over there, vamonos?” Not waiting for an answer, he offers his arm to Julie and trails off with her, leaving me and the two backpacks behind. This isn’t going the way I’d planned it to.

At least Juan helps me loading the luggage into the trunk of his Jeep when we finally reach it. 

“Heavy bag, big journey, si?” he babbles and I just keep on smiling and nodding like an idiot. I hope Juan will take us to Gibraltar and leave us alone as soon as possible.

But the Spaniard has other plans, it seems. Julie and Juan spend the first minutes of the drive discussing something in Spanish in their front seats while I’m admiring the Andalusian landscape drifting by.

“Orlando,” Julie eventually says, “Juan suggests we’d better take the earliest ferry tomorrow. He says we wouldn’t reach Tangier before nightfall today and might have problems finding a place to stay. If we leave tomorrow, we might even get to Marrakech in one day.”

I shrug. What does she expect me to say? I want to get rid of this guy, but he just might have made a good point. “What’s his idea then?”

“He knows a nice hostel in Algeciras, which is the town next to Gibraltar. We could spend the night there and leave early tomorrow.”

“Can’t we stay in Gibraltar instead? I haven’t got any Euro yet, just some pounds and Travellers.” Which is a lie, I do have some Euro with me. They’re tucked away safely in the pocket of my jeans, just in case I need to buy something while we’re in Spain. Looks as if it was a good idea to get some of these strange looking bills after all.

Julie and Juan talk again for some moments, before she turns back to me. “Juan says Gibraltar’s too expensive. He also says we’re his guests tonight.”

Juan eyes me in the rear view mirror. “Fiesta esta noche, Whorlando?” He wiggles his eyebrows and shows his smile again. Oh well. Could be worse, couldn’t it?

“Sounds like a plan. Count me in then,” I say.

It’s only going to be one night, I tell myself. Only one night, and from tomorrow on, it’ll be great, I know it. It’ll be me and Julie on a wild ride around the world, or at least as far as we will get. I’m excited and can’t wait for tomorrow.

 

~TBC~


	2. Algeciras-Gibraltar-Algeciras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orlando wakes up to an unpleasant surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation for the little Spanish dialogue at the end - But I'd advise you to read it the whole things first, so you don't have to scroll to the spoilerish ending ;)

I’m not quite sure where I am when I wake up the next morning. I slowly open my eyes and look around when realization hits me – it’s the Backpacker’s Juan took us to last night. The room we had our ‘Fiesta’ in.

However, something is strange here. The bed Julie is supposed to be sleeping in: it’s empty. What the fuck? I lift my head further. Juan isn’t there, either. Glancing at my watch, I see it’s 9:30 am, maybe they’re just out to get some breakfast for us? Maybe they decided to give me some more sleep, especially since I drank quite a bit last night…but well, it’s already late. We agreed to get started around 7, so they’d better hurry up.

The first sign of fear creeps into my bones when I sit up and see that not only are the beds empty. Julie’s backpack is gone, too. 

“Julie? Juan?” My voice’s not more than a whisper. I clear my throat and call the names again, much louder this time: “Julie? Juan??”

No answer.

Fear changes into panic. I sit up and get out off the bed, hurrying to my own backpack, which is still lying abandoned on the floor. While I’m, stumbling across the room, still slightly dazed from my alcohol-induced sleep, I look up and down at myself. I’m still wearing my clothes from yesterday; the shabby jeans and the yellow T-Shirt saying “I’m not here”. What an irony. It’d better say “they’re not here” instead. Yesterday…Julie, Juan and I started drinking once we’d entered this room. Juan had set a fast pace, and of course I wouldn’t back off. Unfortunately, he seemed to be more used to the sweet Spanish liquor we’d been consuming, because at one point, I simply fell asleep. How pathetic.

My backpack has been searched, I notice it without looking twice. It isn’t even properly closed. I dig through my stuff as quickly as I can, only to find almost all important things are gone. Oh fuck. My wallet, including ID and Visa, not to mention my cash. My undated return ticket is gone as well. And, maybe the worst of all, my passport.

Oh shit with a capital S. 

“Fucking cunt!” I spit and leave the room. I have no clear intention; where I’m going to or what I’m to do next. Somehow, I’m still hoping for this all to be a big, mean practical joke. Oh please.

I rush to the reception, where an elderly woman is flipping through the pages of a glossy mag.

“Hey,” I address her, too worried to care about being polite. 

She raises her head, a bored look on her face. “Si?”

“My friends…from room four. A girl and a guy, do you have any idea where they are?”

The woman looks at me as if I’ve just asked her to ponder about a difficult philosophical issue. “No idea,” she eventually replies and turns her attention back to the mag.

I sigh. This just can’t be true. “Maybe they’ve left a message?” I try.

She looks up again, apparently surprised to find me still standing in front of the counter. Yes, you just look, I’ve just woken up to find myself in the worst terrible nightmare possible. Suddenly her face changes, as if she remembers something.

“Ah, message, si,” she says, reaches for a drawer and hands me a small piece of paper. “Por favor, senor.” I mumble a silent “gracias” and take a step to the side to inspect the note.

“Dear Orlando,” it reads, “I’m sorry I had to do what I did – but there was no other way. Juan and I have taken advantage of you, but since you’re a free soul like us, maybe you’ll understand. Don’t try to find us – you won’t. The room’s been paid for, it was the least we could do. But from now on, you’re on your own. Good luck, Julie.”

“The fucking bitch,” I hiss, crumple the note and close my fist around it. The fucking bitch and her fucking pimp. How could they? Free soul? What the fuck? They tricked me. Or tried to do so, at least. Maybe it isn’t to late. ‘Don’t try to find us’? As if not.

******

Almost half an hour later, I’m approaching the checkpoint separating Gibraltar from Spain. A bus from Algeciras brought me to this place, I paid the tickets with the Euro I still got in my trousers pocket. It’s 150 Euro, about 100 Pound, I quickly calculate. Not very much, but it should be enough – until I find Bonnie and Clyde, that is.

I’ve hurried as much as I could to get here, just grabbed my backpack and left. I checked for Juan’s Jeep outside, which was nowhere to be seen. I hope I’ll spot it in Gibraltar.

As I’m walking to the border, a man in uniform stops me. “Buenos dias. ¿Puedo ver su pasaporte por favor?”

“Uhm…sorry?” I look at him, confused. Is he talking about a passport?

“Sorry, sir. Could I please see your passport?” 

Shit, he is. “I don’t have my passport with me. Could you just…” I don’t get any further.

“An ID maybe?”

I’m getting impatient here. I have no time for this shit now, I need to find the infamous couple, and I need to find them fast. “Listen, I have no passport or ID, but I really need to get in there now, because…”

The official shrugs. “Sorry, sir. If you have no passport, you are not allowed to enter.”

I’m stunned for a second. “But I’m British,” I explain as soon as I’ve recovered. “I’m from England, and Gibraltar is a British colony, right? So could you please let me enter this part of my home country? I really need to get in. See, my passport’s been stolen, and the thieves are in there, but maybe not much longer if you won’t…”

“Sorry. You need a passport. If it’s stolen, you should go to the police. It’s in Algeciras, not far from here.”

Damn it. Here goes nothing.

******

I’m still enraged when I enter the police station a short bus ride later. I feel as if everybody’s fucking with me today, and I don’t like it. The anger’s guiding all my movement and rises by the second. I walk to the counter and place both hands on it. “I’ve been robbed,” I say to the policeman sitting opposite me.

He looks up, bewildered. “Buenos días, sir. How can I help you?”

“I’ve been robbed. By a young couple I’ve been travelling with. They got my money, my ticket, my passport, everything. We spent the night at the backpacker’s, and when I woke up this morning, it was all gone. The girl’s name is Julie, she’s a petite brunette, the guy’s called Juan, Spanish, about my size, dark hair. I guess they’re in Gibraltar, but this watchdog wouldn’t let me enter.” I pause for a second and wait for a reaction.

“Excuse me…robbed?”

I roll my eyes. This is just not possible. Isn’t there anybody in this fucking country who understands me? Or wants to help me? Have I’ve ever done anything to piss off the Spanish people? If so, I don’t remember it. “Yes…robbed. Stolen. They stole my money…dinero? They took it. They’re thieves. Understand? Uhm...comprende?”

Realization finally seems to hit him. “Thieves? Aha!” he exclaims and hands me a sheet. “Fill…please?” he says.

I look at the paper. It’s some kind of form, and of course, everything’s in Spanish. Which I still don’t understand, dammit. “Sorry, but I can’t fill this out. I don’t…”

But the policeman isn’t listening to me anymore. He’s just turned his attention so somebody else who just entered the police station. “Hola, Amigo,” he shouts. “¡Que gusto verte! ¿Como estas? ¡Pense que ya te habias ido!” He shakes hand with the other man who’s now standing next to me. He’s older than me, in his early forties probably, and has sandy hair covered by a cowboy hat.

“Pablo… ¿Como podria irme sin despedirme?” the stranger says.

This is where my patience ends. I’ve been fucked more than once today, and now a policeman, someone who’s supposed to help me, ignores me. I can’t take this shit anymore. “Excuse me,” I bark, “could you reschedule your chitchat and help me instead? I got a serious problem, man!”

The stranger turns and looks at me. An amused grin flickers across his face, and my annoyance even grows. What’s so fucking funny, I’m tempted to scream, but hold myself back. 

The cowboy addresses the policeman again. “¿Aparte de ser maleducado, cual es su problema?”

“No estoy seguro,” the policeman answers and giggles about a joke I didn’t get, “Yo creo que le robaron pero no entendi todo. Es Ingles y habla muy rapido para mi.”

“Entonces, dejame tratar.”

The stranger looks at me again. “So you’ve been robbed?”

The sudden switching of language of confuses me for a second. But then I register it: he’s talking English, and he’s talking to me, thank God. “Yes,” I say quickly, before he loses his interest again. “By two people I’ve been travelling with, Julie and Juan.” I repeat my sad story once more, and the cowboy listens to me.

“I see…” he says when I’m finished. He translates it to the policeman and they talk for a while. He then looks at me again. “You need to fill out this form, and Pablo will see what he can do. But you shouldn’t raise your hopes. He says if they went to Gibraltar, or even to Morocco, they probably won’t be found. And you can’t access Gibraltar without a passport anyway. Getting a new one might take a while down here, Pablo says you might have more luck with the British consulate in Madrid.”

“Madrid? How the hell am I supposed to get to Madrid?”

The stranger shrugs. “I don’t know, kiddo. But it’s your own fault for being so naïve, I guess.”

What an arrogant prick. “Oh yes, thanks for reminding me,” I hiss. I look from the stranger to the policeman and back, and their faces both show the same expression: amusement about my pity. Wankers. It’s probably a bad decision, but I turn on my heels and get out of there. 

******

I buy myself a coffee and wander aimlessly around in the town. It’s rather nice, I guess, but I have no eyes for that now. My head is spinning. Eventually, I sit down on a bench and consider my options.

I could call my mother or sister and ask them for help. But that’s a big no. They lectured me enough before I left, and the last thing I need was a “I told you so”-sermon. I *have* to solve this on my own. And I will. But I just don’t know how. Let’s face it, I’m royally fucked. Almost no money left, no pass, no ticket…I’m stranded and have no idea how I’ll get back to London. If only I’d never left England. If only I’d never met Julie. If only…

A wave of self pity hits me and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. How could all this just happen? Maybe the stranger was right. Maybe I am a naïve kiddo, not ready to do anything at all on my own. I sniff and blink the tears away. Ok, now I admit to myself that I’m an idiot, but this doesn’t help me at all. I need a fucking miracle right now.

A car honks in front of me. I look up and see a small red truck. The driver is waving, could he mean me? I look around, but nobody’s near me. He’s still waving, so I get up and slowly approach the truck.

It’s the cowboy, I recognize. What does he want now? 

“Hey. Have you figured out how to get to Madrid yet?”

Oh great. Just kid me some more, would you? “Oh sure,” I say. “I’m just waiting for my private plane to get me. Should be right here any second.” I turn and am about to leave when he calls me again.

“Hey, relax, no need to be pissed off. It wasn’t my intention to mistreat you back there, and it isn’t now. You’ve been tricked, and it’s not funny.”

“Thanks you so much for your kind understanding,” I say, my voice still dripping with irony.

“Just calm down, I've got an offer to make. Madrid’s on my way, so if you’d like to join me…if you haven’t got any other plans, that is.”

Other plans? I don’t reply immediately. This guy could be a madman, a molester maybe. Someone who looks out for young handsome men, invites them to travel with him and rapes them. And eats them afterwards. Something like that. You can read these stories in The Sun every day, among the other crap. 

“Hey, I’m not a pervert.”

Oh great. He’s a mind reader, too.

I shrug. “I don’t know…”

“Well. From what I’ve heard, you don’t have many options left. And I can take you to Madrid for free, so what’s to consider? It’s a long drive and I’d like some company, that’s all.”

He’s made a point. For free sounds good. And he doesn’t look like a madman at all, at least not to naïve Orlando Bloom, for whatever that’s worth. Plus, he won’t be able to rob me. I have lost everything already. Except for the now 140 Euro, but he doesn’t know about that.

He reaches over and opens the passenger door when I step closer towards the truck. I climb in, close the door and cling to my backpack.

“Welcome. I’m Viggo.” He sticks his hand out.

I grab and shake it. “Orlando.”

“Pleasure, Orlando. So let’s go, yeah?”

I nod and he starts the truck.

 

~TBC~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> “Buenos dias. ¿Puedo ver su pasaporte por favor?” (“Good morning. Can I see your passport, please?”)
> 
> “Hola, Amigo,” he shouts. “¡Que gusto verte! ¿Como estas? ¡Pense que ya te habias ido!” (“Hey, mate,” he shouts, “So good to see you! How are you? I thought you’d left already.”)
> 
> “Pablo… ¿Como podria irme sin despedirme?” the stranger says. (“Pablo…How could I leave without saying goodbye?” the stranger says.)
> 
> The cowboy addresses the policeman again. “¿Aparte de ser maleducado, cual es su problema?” (The cowboy addresses the policeman again. “What’s his problem? Aside from being rude.”)
> 
> “No estoy seguro,” the policeman answers and giggles about a joke I didn’t get, “Yo creo que le robaron pero no entendi todo. Es Ingles y habla muy rapido para mi.” (“I’m not sure,” the policeman answers and giggles about a joke I didn’t get, “I think he’s been robbed. But I didn’t understand everything. He’s English and talks to fast for me.”)
> 
> “Entonces, dejame tratar.” (“Let me try it then.”)


	3. Algeciras-Madrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orlando and Viggo hit the road.

We pass the first few miles in silence. I might as well just start some polite conversation, since Viggo is taking me to Madrid, right?

“So…” I begin, “You’re going to Madrid, yeah?” Great Bloom. Captain Obvious. Forget the actor, I might just work as an amateur detective as well.

Viggo just chuckles. “Well, yeah. Though…not really. Madrid’s just on my way.”

“On your way? Where are you heading then?”

“Denmark.”

That leaves me speechless for some moment. “Denmark? That’s pretty far, isn’t it?” Wow. Another classic.

Viggo chuckles again. Yeah, great, he found himself some amusing companion, didn’t he?

“It’s a long way, yes,” he eventually says.

“Hm…and what you’re doing there?”

“Business.”

“Aha.”

Was that one question too much? Who knows what kind of business this strange man is involved in. The question is: do I want to know? Maybe better not.

“Why are you going all the way by car instead of flying?” I try a different approach.

“Because,” Viggo says and shifts gears, “I just like to drive through Europe. It’s beautiful this time of the year. I love travelling, I’ve got the time, so why not? No need to rush things by getting there by plane if I have the chance to just drive around.”

This man *is* crazy, I think. But wait…his idea is kinda similar to mine, isn’t it? I mean, travelling around and roaming different countries, that was just my original plan as well. Before Julie…oh well, better not think of that now.

“You know,” Viggo says, “you can put your luggage in the back. Unless you need it to hold onto. But I promise I’ll drive carefully.”

I look at my backpack, which I’m still holding in my lap. Viggo’s right, this looks rather ridiculous. I unfasten my seatbelt and turn around to throw it into the back of the truck.

“What’s all this stuff?” I ask as I glance at the small and big packages already assembled there.

“Luggage, clothes, stuff I need…a small tent, sleeping bags, things like that.”

“A tent? Sleeping bags? Don’t tell me you camp out here.”

“Sure I do.”

“Uh-huh…yeah, sure. So you’re some nature freak, or what?” Or maybe he’s just a poor fucker who can’t afford a hotel bed each night?

“If that’s what you wanna call it. The nights are warm enough and it’s really nice. Sleeping under the stars if it’s not raining, next to a small fire…Why not? You have no sense for adventure, kiddo?”

“Hey, I sure do. I wanted to go to Morocco, remember?”

“Of course I remember. Why did you want to go there in the first place?”

I ponder that for some seconds before I answer. Mainly because Julie wanted to go, but of course, I won’t give Viggo that as a reason.

“Well, I thought it would be nice…the Hippie spirit is still alive there, yeah? I just thought it’d be a cool place to be.”

Viggo slowly nods. “It is. And from there? Where would you’ve gone? There’s not much around, you know.”

“Uhm…we weren’t planning further ahead. Guess we’d just have gone…someplace. The journey’s the destination, right?”

“That’s right. See why I’m driving to Denmark now?”

He’s right, yeah, I got that. Arrogant prick, stop lecturing me. I choose not to answer. Instead, I switch the topic, clever me. “And what’s that for?” I look into the back again. “What are these…canvases?” 

“Yup.”

“So you’re an artist?”

“Yeah. I got an exhibition in Odense, that’s the town in Denmark I’m going to. Those canvases are just there in case I might need them. If inspiration hits me, ‘cause you never know.”

“And where are the paintings for the exhibition?”

“They’re already in Odense.”

“Uh huh. So…you live in Algeciras?”

“Kinda. I have a place there.”

“But where are you really from? I’d guess you’re from the States, right?”

“Right.”

“And what are you doing in Europe then?”

He doesn’t answer right away. “I just…mainly for business. My art and all that. And I just love it here.”

Hm. He’s holding back, but well, I hardly know the man. Why am I asking so many questions anyway? Must be a mix of curiosity and boredom, I guess. And a distraction from my own problems. 

Short recap: I wanted to travel with a gorgeous girl, instead, I find myself in the company of a mad hippie artist who sleeps in a tent, drives all the way to Denmark and might be up to everything. Oh my.

 

I frown a bit as we pass Málaga. That’s where we met Juan and the trouble started. Maybe I should’ve seen it earlier. Was I really that naïve? The more I think about it, the more embarrassing the whole thing gets. And I still don’t have any clue what I’ll do once we reach Madrid. I could get a temporary passport from the consulate, and then? I’d still have no money to get a plane ticket. And I still wouldn’t, under no circumstances, ask my mom or sister for it. My friends aren’t an option as well, since I was rather…well, let me put it like this: maybe I bragged a bit about my plans concerning Julie. Admitting she tricked me…they’d never let me live that down. I have to think of something that will help me out of this miserable situation. First of all, I need more time.

“How far is it to Madrid?” I ask Viggo.

“About 400 miles, roughly. Guess we’ll be there in the early evening.”

“Oh, good.” Not good. In a few hours, we’ll reach Spain’s capital, and I’d better come up with a plan before then. I try to think for the next couple of miles, believe me, I try really hard. But somehow, I just can’t come up with anything. I think I have to face it: I’m lost. 

“So Orlando,” Viggo stops my useless pondering, “what do you do? I mean, when you’re not travelling around with people you barely know.”

I’m about to throw a furious glance towards him, when I think of better not doing it. After all, Viggo is the only person left for me right now. And though some of his remarks are rather annoying, he’s been nice to me so far. “I study economics in London.”

“So you’ll become, what, a businessman?”

“Yeah. Boring, isn’t it?” Nothing like driving through Europe with a tent and some canvases in the back…now, where did that thought come from?

“Why should it be boring? There’s no excuse of boredom, you know. It’s only boring if you don’t know how to make it exciting. Or…maybe you’re not satisfied with it? Have you always wanted to study economics?”

What is this, does a psychoanalysis come along with the free ride? But well, I asked Viggo a lot, so I guess it’s just fair. And he made a point…again. He’s kinda scary. “Uhm…I don’t know. It just seemed to be the right thing to do after I graduated.”

“Did you think so? Or you father?”

“My father is dead.”

“Oh.” Viggo blushes slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. He’s been for a long time. But to come back to your question…you know, I never really thought about that. I guess people…they just expected me to do it.” I shrug.

“And if you had the choice?”

“Hey, it’s not as if anybody forced me to do what I’ve done. I did have a choice.”

“Ok, ok. Maybe I chose the wrong words. Would you…rather do something else instead?”

“Dunno. Be an actor maybe. Or…an artist.”

Now Viggo laughs. “You know, maybe you made the right decision after all. You wouldn’t want to end up like me, now, would you?”

Why not? How am I supposed to answer to that?

Fortunately, Viggo doesn’t let me. “Never mind.”

We drive some more in silence, and Viggo is focussing his attention to the road, since the traffic just got heavier. Which gives me a good opportunity to take a closer look at him.

As a matter of fact, he is a quite attractive man, I must admit. Not handsome in a general way, but he’s…interesting. He’s got rugged features, which kinda attract me. The way the tips of his blond hair stuck out from under his hat…And his eyes are just…very capturing, you know? I usually don’t fancy older men. I fucked some guys my age back in London, I even let some of them fuck me from time to time, things like that just happen when you go club in the right (or wrong) scene as I used to do it. However, like I said, Viggo’d normally be too old for my taste. But somehow, he’s fascinating. But crazy, nonetheless.

I turn my head and look out of the passenger window. I shouldn’t think any further in *this* direction. Must be the general confusion after all that happened to me on this fateful day.

******

“Orlando? Hey…wake up, will ya?”

I open my eyes. Where am I? Truck…Viggo…Madrid…yeah, right. Guess I must have taken a nap. “Where are we?”

“Just outside of Madrid. It’s about 30 more miles, I’d say.”

“Ah, cool. So, we’re just taking a break and going to the consulate then?”

“Uhm, there’s a small problem.”

“Problem? What do you mean?” Would’ve been too easy if things suddenly went smoothly, right?

“Well,” Viggo says, “it’s quite late already. I guess office hours are over.”

“Oh. Fuck.” I hadn’t thought about that. “So, what should I do then?”

“Well. I could get you to a cheap but nice hostel, I know some places around that would be okay.”

“Nice offer, Viggo, but…”

“I’d lend you some money, no problem.”

Wow. Whatever I’ve done to deserve this generosity of a stranger, it was worth it. Or maybe I just deserve some luck, after all. “That’s…that’s really nice, Viggo.”

“No problem, Orlando. Pleasure. The least I could do after being so mean to you earlier today. You know, I’m really sorry about that.”

Whoa, what’s going on here? “Ehm…well, thanks again, Viggo, and don’t worry, no hard feelings, okay?” 

He smiles at me. And what a smile it is. “So, should I bring you to the hostel? I’d pick you up tomorrow morning then.”

“Yeah…where will you go?”

“I’ll come back here to camp.”

“Here?” I look out of the window. The place looks wonderful. It’s a small clearing surrounded by pine trees. A small creek is running nearby. 

“Yeah. Looks like a good place.”

“It really does.”

“Well, you could always join me here, if you’d like to. I got a sleeping bag to spare.”

I’ve already made my decision before Viggo even mentioned it. “You know Viggo, I think I’ll do exactly that.”

******

I’m full and tired. Plus, for the first time the whole day, I feel somewhat satisfied. And safe. Considering the circumstances, that is.

I’m snuggled into Viggo’s spare sleeping bag, lying a secure distance from the small fire he built and used to heat the cans we had for dinner. He’s lying a bit away from me, gazing at the stars. I do the same. Viggo was right, it is warm enough to sleep outside, and it *is* beautiful. 

He turns into my direction. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Still hungry?”

“No. I had enough, it was good.”

“Comfortable enough?”

I nod, so I’m not sure if he can see it in the twilight. “Yup,” I add, just to make sure.

“That’s good.” He falls silent for some moment. “It’s been quite an exciting day for you, huh?” he asks eventually.

“Oh yes, indeed. I still can’t believe it all. Seems a bit like a bad dream, you know?”

“I know. That’s just what getting tricked by a woman is like. Guess you fancied her, hm? This girl? Julie?”

I blush, and now I hope he can’t see *that*. “Hmmm…a bit, yes. She was nice. But well, as it turned out, she’s a fucked up bitch, and that’s just not my type. I prefer honest people as lovers.” Did I just say that? These gender neutral words like people and lover? Am I trying to imply that I’m attracted to both sexes? Why would I do that?

Of course I can’t see Viggo’s reaction, don’t know if he caught the slip at all, I only hear his mumbled “I see…”, and decide to let the matter rest.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” I ask instead.

“We’ll get you to the consulate. And once you’ve got some kind of temporary passport, we’ll figure out a way of how to get you back to Britain. And before you know, you’ll be back home, safe and sound and all that, I promise.”

I sigh. Sounds very easy, doesn’t it? “Thanks, Viggo.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“No, really…you’re very kind to me.”

“I’m just trying to help you, that’s all.” I see he shifts a bit in his sleeping bag. “Maybe you’d better catch some more sleep now.”

Now that sounds like a plan. Though I already slept some hours in the truck, I still feel tired. It’s just like Viggo said, it was an exciting day, and all the adrenaline that had pushed me earlier is finally taking its toll. “Mmhhh…yes, I think I’ll do that,” I agree.

“Ok, Orlando. Just sleep. No more worries for now. You’re safe here, I’ll take care of that. And tomorrow, everything will be fine.”

Listening to Viggo’s kind whispered words, the crackling fire and chirping crickets, I slowly drift into sleep, with a smile on my face.

 

~TBC~

Visual aid:  



	4. Madrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another new day is about to start, will it be any better than the last one?

I know I’m lost when Viggo looks at me. A sinful and most satisfying promise is visible in his eyes, and I’m more than eager to find out if it matches my own fantasy. 

The way his hands are working – they’re slowly opening the zipper of my sleeping bag before they push the whole damn thing open – suggest I might get lucky. And oh yes, indeed. As soon as I’m lying before him, in only my shirt and boxers, one of his big hands slips underneath the cotton that’s covering my upper body. His fingers travel upwards until they’ve found my left nipple and tweak it.

I jerk and whimper a bit, due to the sudden arousal my whole body is suffering from. Though suffer does not quite fit it…

“Shhh…Relax,” Viggo hisses and bends his head down. At the same time, he pushes my shirt up, and shortly after, I feel his tongue at the same spot his fingers just caressed. He licks over my erect peak before he takes it in his mouth and tugs on it carefully.

I moan, and this time, Viggo doesn’t silence me. I feel him chuckling, as he’s still playing with my nipple, and the sensation makes my whole body tingle. Jesus, he’s good…now, if he’d wrap his luscious lips around my rock hard cock next, that’d be awesome.

Did I say that our loud? Because Viggo raises his head and looks at me with a smirk, before he says: “You want more?”

He even has to ask? I nod, too breathless to actually say anything due to the anticipation of what he might do next. And oh yes, Viggo slides down on my body, until his head comes to rest in my crotch. I feel his cheek rubbing against my erection, and the mix of his rough stubble and the fabric of my boxers produces an almost unbearable friction. 

“Viggo…please…” I hear myself beg in a more than shameful manner.

Viggo doesn’t seem to mind, on the contrary, he obliges. I lift my hips so he can push my boxers down to my knees, and as soon as my bottom touches ground again, he sucks me into his mouth without hesitation.

Oh. My. God. He’s more than good. 

Viggo sucks me in only to let me slip out again. His tongue circles the head of my cock, lapping all the precome. And then he sucks me in another time, all the way up to the hilt. I gasp when he hollows his cheeks. I feel like I’m trapped inside his mouth, and I’m not sure if I ever want to be released. 

“Awwww…Viggo…” I murmur, and one of his hands comes up and starts that wicked nipple-tweaking again. “Mmmhhh…yes…” I sigh and lift my head, just to meet his eyes, staring at me with lust and desire.

He starts to hum, and yes, I know I’m going to come any moment. And somehow, I just *know* Viggo will swallow it all. So I let my head fall back down again and let go. 

I moan loudly now, doesn’t matter, nobody’s near anyway. And Viggo doesn’t mind. Maybe my moaning even encourages him, because he sucks me faster. And that’s it; I can’t take it any longer. “Viggo…yes!” I gasp and come hard. And just as I predicted, he takes it all.

But why is his hand, which just left my nipple, tickling my nose now? This doesn’t feel good and I’m not in the mood for some silly fun while I’m still riding through my aftershocks.

I open my eyes and am blind for some moments. The early morning sun is shining directly in my face, and what was supposed to be Viggo’s finger is…eeewww, a fat fly. “Sh! Sh! Bugger off!” I successfully chase the insect away, lay my head back down on my jeans I used as a cushion, and close my eyes again, trying to calm down. Holy shit. Now, if that wasn’t some hot dream, I don’t know what is. The way that Viggo…oh shit, Viggo! Did I moan only in my dream or maybe…fuckfuckfuck.

I open my eyes, just a tiny bit, so I can peek over to Viggo’s sleeping bag. It’s empty. What the…? Is that some kind of evil déjà vu? But Viggo wouldn’t trick me, would he? 

I dare to turn my head…the truck is still there, so Viggo should be as well. Maybe he’s just following the call of nature or something. I just hope he didn’t hear me.

I raise my head a bit more, and then I spot Viggo, or rather: his head. He’s swimming in the creek nearby, and I can see his blonde wet hair from time to time, moving up and down in the water. Guess he’s more of an early riser than I am. 

Ok, this gives me the perfect opportunity for a quick situation check. I lift my sleeping bag and look inside. Damn, just as I thought. I really had a wet dream, in the wettest way possible. And the nice spot of come is just too visible on my dark grey boxers. Yeah, great Bloom. How old are you again? 13? I check some more. Thankfully, there’s no trace of my seed on Viggo’s sleeping bag. Now, that would’ve been embarrassing. 

The only good thing about the whole matter is that I won’t have to greet Viggo with my usual morning wood. Not sure this is the better alternative, though.

As I’m just about to get up and get rid of my boxers as fast as possible, I catch a movement in the corner of my eye. Viggo’s finished his morning swim and is about to exit the creek. I see his head, his chest, his stomach, his cock…oh my god, he’s naked! I immediately let my head fall down and pretend I’m still sleeping, because I’m sure that’s what he expects me to do.

But of course, I can’t resist. I *have* to peek a bit more. As before, I open one of my eyes a tiny bit, but it’s enough anyway. 

Viggo is still standing near the creek. His back is turned towards me and he’s towelling his hair dry. Perfect. I let my eyes wander his body up and down. I’d really love to pinch that ass, I decide spontaneously. 

My tongue stops licking my lips only when I realize what I’m doing: perving over my travel companion. But well, truth to be told, I haven’t done anything else since I boarded that plane back in London. The only difference is that I’ve since switched my company.

Viggo eventually finishes and now he stretches his body. I see how the muscles his back and shoulders interact, and his ass looks even more prominent now. And of course, my cock slowly comes back to life again. Great. So now I have to take care of both a morning erection and underpants full of come, without Viggo noticing either, if possible.

Viggo turns and I get another glimpse of his cock. But oh…he’s putting briefs on, too bad. And then, he comes walking towards me. I quickly close my eyes again.

“Orlando?” I hear his voice some moments later. “Time to wake up.”

I slowly open my eyes and try to give my best oh-I-was-still-sleeping-where-am-I-impression, which makes a beautiful smile appear on Viggo’s face.

“Hey,” he says, “good morning.”

“Good morning,” I mumble, trying to sound as sleepy as possible.

“Still tired, hm? No need to hurry. Listen, I just wanted to tell you, there’s a small village nearby, and I thought I’d drive over and get us some breakfast. Meanwhile, you could take your time to wake up…maybe you’d like to take a bath in the creek,” he laughs again, and the joy on his face is adorable, “the water’s very refreshing. Or we could stop at some service area later for a proper shower.”

“No, that’s fine, swimming sounds good.” As does a nice morning wank in the creek.

“Ok then…I’ll be back in a few. And I’ll leave most of my stuff here, so you know I’ll be coming back, ok?”

I’m stunned. The thought that Viggo would trick me didn’t occur to me. Which is strange enough, considering what happened to me yesterday. Guess I am this naïve kiddo, so what? Besides, I just feel that I can trust Viggo. I can’t really explain it; it’s just there. And it’s different than the trust I felt for Julie…if there ever was some. Guess I didn’t even think about it.

“That’s okay, Viggo. I’ll be ready when you’re back.”

“Okay then. Enjoy the creek.”

Oh, I will, no doubt about that.

******

The day started very well. After Viggo left, I swam and jerked myself off in the creek. When he came back, I was fresh, changed and relaxed. We had some breakfast, got our stuff together and headed off to Madrid.

Finding the consulate wasn’t a problem, either. Viggo left me there, saying he’d wait for me in the small café nearby.

And now I’m sitting here, waiting for anything to happen. It must have been almost two hours – a check with my watch confirms this assumption, it’s 10 am already. Several people have interviewed me; they shoved me from room to room, asked all kinds of strange questions while typing into their computers. I feel like a suspect.

“Mr Bloom?” one of the men I talked to during the morning addresses me. “We’ve got your papers ready and taken care of the issues with your credit card as well.”

******

“You got all you need?” Viggo asks when I sit down on the chair next to him. 

“I think so,” I answer and look at the papers in my hand again. There’s some kind of temporary passport plus some further administrative formulary, which all basically say that I am who I pretend to be. Viggo orders a coffee for me when the waitress approaches us.

“Thanks, Viggo. I’m really sorry it took so long,” I say.

“No problem, really, don’t worry. So, what are your further plans now?”

I sigh. That’s a good question indeed. “Honestly…I don’t know.”

“You don’t? I thought you’d want to get back home as soon as possible. If it’s an issue of money…I’d help you, you know.”

“Thanks, Viggo, but…” Getting home, yes, that was my very first idea. After Julie tricked and left me, when I felt all alone and miserable. But that doesn’t apply anymore. I’d love to spend more time with Viggo, but I have no idea of how to break that news to him. He’s done enough for me already, his new generous offer being just the latest example. And I don’t even know if he’d like me to accompany him any further. “Uhm…it’s just that…it’s…” I really have no idea of what to say.

“Embarrassing, hm?” Viggo helps me out, and there’s not the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yes,” I admit, “the whole thing…I wanted to travel for a while, you know, and now I’d come home already…fuck, it just didn’t go as planned at all.” 

“Things sometimes just work out very differently than you want them to, for better or for worse. Who knows what would’ve happened once you got over to Africa with this girl. Or if you’d never left London at all.”

‘I’d have never met you,’ I think.

“And like this,” Viggo continues, “you travelled with some mad artist and spent a night camping out at least. That’s a nice experience as well, isn’t it?”

“Yes…it was really nice.”

“See? Always try to see the good things. Be optimistic. I know what happened to you was a really bad thing…but well, who knows what it’s been good for, you know?”

I nod slowly and sip on my coffee. “Yeah…” Damn, I’d *really* love to spend more time with him. Not only because he’s fucking gorgeous, and I’m talking about the whole package here, but also because he makes me feel good. And that’s just what I need right now. “But that still doesn’t help me figuring out what to do next.” I sigh and try to look miserable. Am I manipulative? Can you blame me?

“Well…” Viggo begins, “there are a lot of ways for you to get to Britain, you don’t have to fly from here. There are other airports, or think of all the ferries that depart from France, Belgium and Germany.”

“Yeah…ferry sounds nice, I always wanted to do that…no chance these places are on your way, hm?” I dare to ask. He can’t say more than no.

Viggo chuckles. “In fact, they are. Would you like to come with me?”

I send a silent prayer. “I’d love to…if you want me to, that is.”

“I told you before, I’d like to have some company. And you are very nice company indeed.” 

He winks. Is he flirting with me? He just might be…shit. I’m blushing. “So, where would we be going?” I quickly ask.

Viggo reaches for the back pocket of his jeans and draws out an old and faded map. “I checked the route while I was waiting for you. Roughly said, I want to pass the Pyrenees somewhere around here,” he circles an area between Spain and France. I try to concentrate on the map, not on his calloused, strong hand. “From there on, we could drive along the coast until we find a new place to rest. The ocean is beautiful there, you’ll see. Maybe we can camp on some remote beach.”

We. Remote beach. I like that idea. “Sounds good.”

And there it is again, that sexy smile of Viggo’s. “From there on, we’ll see. We just stay where we want to, and you’ll have enough time to make up your mind where you want to get back to England from. And one more thing, Orlando, so we can enjoy this trip without further worries…”

“Yes?” God, what does he want now? Did he notice the way I’m drooling about him already and is annoyed?

“Please, no more money talk. If you need anything, food, clothes, whatever, just let me know. We’ll figure a way out that you can pay me back later. That okay?”

Phew. “Viggo…I can’t thank you enough…”

He silences me with his hand. “Ok, you said so, now, let’s forget it.”

“Wait. There’s one more thing you need to know.” 

Viggo looks at me, waiting while I search in my pocket. He deserves to know.

“Here,” I say as I stretch my hand out, holding the bills and coins in my palm, “I have 140 Euro left. Thought you should know that I am able to contribute to our trip as well.”

Viggo reaches for my hand and closes it with his. The touch makes me shiver, in a good way.

“That’s very nice, Orlando…but you’d better save this for the ferry.”

“Okay…” I say. Very quietly. Because he’s still holding my hand.

“Good. Ready to go on then?”

“Yes.”

We get up, and sadly, Viggo lets go off me.

 

~TBC~


	5. Madrid-Mimizan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orlando and Viggo get closer.

We leave Madrid and drive to the North. Viggo takes some turns and soon, we’ve left the Spanish capital behind us. 

“So how long will today’s drive be?” I ask and hope I don’t sound too impatient. But I just can’t wait to get to that remote beach Viggo was talking about. 

“Depends on how many stops we include. Up to eight hours, I guess. I might want to enjoy the landscape a bit, take some pictures maybe. We’ll drive through some nice scenery.”

“Uhm, sure.” Eight hours. Damn. Means we won’t reach the beach before early evening. I hope I won’t be as tired as I was yesterday once we get there, so I’ll be ready for…well, for whatever Viggo might be up to. 

And there’s a good side to it. I’ll spend the next eight hours next to Viggo. This gives me the chance to get to know him even better. And I think, since we’re travel companions for a longer time now, I have a right get some more information about this man. “So, Viggo,” I say, “tell me a bit about yourself.”

He chuckles. “What do you want to know?”

‘Which part of your body do you like being kissed most? Do you taste as good as you look? Would you like to shag me?’

I’d better think of something else.

“Hmmm…have you always been like this? The travelling artist?”

“Hehe. That sounds as if I’m part of a freak show or something. Only tonight: see Viggo, the travelling artist.”

We both laugh. “I don’t think you’re a freak,” I say. Not anymore at least. And then I decide to add something really daring: “Not at all. From what I’ve seen so far, I’d say you’re a very kind and…nice person, Viggo.”

He looks at me, smiling. “I really like that about you. Your almost instant trust. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to make fun of you again, but you’re just…” he searches for the right words, “you see the good in every person, you know? Even after what happened to you yesterday, you don’t go into hiding or hold back. You just express your feelings. It’s very refreshing.”

“Well, that’s just me, I guess…” I say, still trying to figure out whether he just paid me a compliment or not, when I realize he never answered my original question. “So do you do this often? Travelling like this?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“But…that must be terribly boring, right? I mean, driving around, all on your own…”

“Like I already told you, sometimes I have company. And I got some *very* nice company this time, so it’s *very* much worth it,” Viggo says, looks at me once more and winks.

Damn. Yes, he said that before, but he didn’t include the word ‘very’ twice back then. I think about blushing, in order to avoid it. I’ve read about this trick somewhere, and I really hope it works. Keep on talking Orlando, I tell myself. “So you always chat up all the guys who might go along with you?” 

“Not all guys. Just the pretty ones.”

Oh fuck. He *is* flirting with me, and now, I *do* blush. I’m usually not that easily embarrassed…then again, a lot of stuff that’s been going on lately is a first timer for me.

“Sorry,” Viggo quickly adds, “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Oh, you have no idea. I look at him, and though I can’t tell for sure, I think he’s blushing a bit, too. “No, you didn’t…” I leave the rest of the sentence unfinished and we both fall silent for a while.

It’s weird, actually. I rather liked the direction this talk was taking, but I fucked it up somehow. And now we’re both uncomfortable, and the moment is gone. Or maybe not? I try to come up with something, but I’m too afraid I’ll give him the wrong idea.

“Should I tell you a secret?”

I nod eagerly, thankful to Viggo for ending this awkward silence.

“Ok…I drive from Algeciras to Denmark and back more or less frequently, as I live in both places for some parts of the year. However, I very seldom take this route, via Madrid. I prefer to drive along the coast…Alicante, Valencia, Barcelona, you know…”

Ok, ok, no need to get my knickers in a twist yet. I need him to say it before my inner self starts to cheer. “So why…” I think I lost my ability to end the sentences I begin.

“For once, because a different route might be a nice change for once. But mainly, well, you had to get to Madrid, right? So that’s where we went.”

I want Viggo to stop this car right now so I can just attack him. Instead, I say the most stupid thing I could possibly think of: “So you’re just doing all this for a noble cause? To help the poor kid from the street?” I scold myself. I swear to you, I have no idea how that slipped out.

And what does Viggo do? He raises an eyebrow, takes a deep breath and says: “Maybe. To some extent. I just had to help you, I must admit. But that’s not a wrong thing to do, is it? And besides…I’m also doing this…because of much more selfish reasons.”

I’m stunned. “And you say I’m the one who doesn’t hold back?” I tease, trying to get the serious undertone out of what I still consider to be some kind of flirting. “I’d say you’re refreshing as well.”

And then, something changes in Viggo’s expression. “Yeah, right….go and try to sell that idea to my ex-wife,” he laughs bitterly.

Uhm, beg your pardon? 

“Confused? See, Orlando, you’re not the only one who’s been tricked by a woman.”

******

For the next few hours, we talk and talk and talk. Viggo tells me about his failed marriage, and I slowly begin to understand why he’s pretending to be this restless loner. His ex-wife really fucked with him, and not in a good way. She cheated on him for several years, always proclaiming to need her freedom, just to get rid off him. So they basically spent most of the marriage apart, and when she finally left him, he was the one who had to take the blame. “You never cared for me, you’ve never been interested in us doing anything together. You’re a boring man and I can’t live like this anymore,” was the most significant part of her way to say goodbye. 

Learning that Viggo had been married shocks me a bit at first. But the whole thing took place several years ago, he says he’s over it, and I believe him. I think he just needs someone to talk to about it. But Viggo can tell me all he wants, I doubt he spends much time with other people, at least not longer periods like he does with me now.

So after the initial shock, I begin to listen carefully – and we soon start a real conversation. When I say real, I mean a serious, not like all the mindless chitchat I usually share with my mates. About girls, boys, sex or music. No, Viggo and me are having a deep conversation, and he’s not only expecting me to listen, but also to take part. He values my opinion, respects it. And somehow, this makes me feel very good, despite the strange topic we’re dealing with.

“That’s why I took you along,” he eventually finishes. “I thought you could relate to all this. I mean, most men are too proud or whatever to simply admit they’ve been fucked by a woman, you know? You just said it, and that impressed me.”

“Yeah…so that’s why you’re this restless? That’s behind all this constant travelling?”

“I just couldn’t be bothered with settling down anymore. I’ve done that long enough, and it ruined my marriage.”

“Sure, but Viggo, you said you’re over it, so it’s about time to get rid of this silly idea as well, don’t you think?”

He sighs. “You’re right. Maybe that’s just what I need, someone to tell me. Thanks, Orlando.”

“You’re very welcome. Just let me know if I can be of any more help, ok?”

“Oh, sure.”

We’ve reached a very hilly area, and Viggo leaves the highway to take a less frequented road for some miles. We drive through some villages, and finally, he pulls over at a gas station. I go to the loo while Viggo fills the car, and when I come back, there’s no Viggo in sight. Figuring he’s inside the small shop, I get a bottle of water out of the truck, cross the road and let my gaze wander across the valley stretched out in front of me. What a great view. I stretch my body, as my muscles are sore from sitting for several hours. When I’m done, I sit down on a large rock nearby to admire the scenery a bit longer. 

“Here.” Viggo has come back and hands me a sandwich. “Looks as if you’re sitting right on the precipice,” he says.

“I kinda am,” I reply, eying the way down just a few feet apart from where I sit.

“But it looks really nice…may I?” He motions with his camera towards me.

“Just go ahead.” I start eating my sandwich, swallowing it with some water, and look out into the valley again. I hear Viggo’s camera click from time to time. “This is a really gorgeous view,” he comments randomly, and I don’t know if I’m included in this picture. 

Viggo comes over to me when I’ve finished eating and kneels down next to me so we’re on the same eyelevel. “I just want to add something,” he muses, takes off his hat and places it on my own head. 

I smirk and begin to adjust my curls. “Do I look any good?”

“You’re just perfect,” he says. And I think I might just drown in his eyes.

We continue to look at each other, and I kiss him, just like that. He doesn’t pull away. He just lets it happen, as if he’s expected it.

I go very slowly, though I don’t hold myself back intentionally, it’s just a slow kiss, that’s all. I brush my lips over his, and I enjoy the contact, although it’s just very light. It’s supposed to be a promise for what might be ahead, and that’s all I want to tell Viggo right now.

“What was that for?” he asks when we part.

“Just because. Do I need a reason?”

“No. You are reason enough.” He touches my cheek with the back of his hand before he gets up and takes some more pics. Maybe he’s trying to capture this moment. Which might be a good idea: I bet my face is glowing, and I know I want some copies of these pics.

We get back on the highway shortly after. The second part of the journey goes by like no time at all. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel as if we’re both a lot more relaxed now. As if we’ve lost some of the burden that was troubling us – or maybe it’s just my silly self trying to over-analyse. However, whatever kind of tension might’ve been there before, it isn’t any longer. I tell Viggo random things about me, little bits of what happened to me at some point of my life. He enjoys and laughs about the silly things, he listens and comments wisely on the more serious parts. And he always tries to top my stories with one of his own.

At some point, we drive across a rather huge bridge.

“Welcome to France,” Viggo says. “This is the Rio Bidasoa underneath us, and we’ve just left Spain.”

“Cool. Bye, Spain. And yes, welcome France.” It’s the country of love, isn’t it? And do I have high hopes.

Viggo and I also try to talk about music, but let this topic fall when we find out we won’t come to a conclusion we’d both be satisfied it. I ask Viggo to tell me more about his art then, and he starts a long but interesting monologue on what inspires him. I have no idea what’s happening to me. All I know is that if somebody told me before that I’d enjoy a scene like this, driving through this changing scenery, listening to the rambling of a man on his art, I might have labelled this person insane. But being here now, I feel as if I have to thank Viggo for opening my eyes to this whole new way of admiring beauty.

“So, that’s what it’s mostly about,” Viggo ends shortly after we’ve left the highway once more, “the key is seeing beauty in a multitude of things.”

I nod, because I understand what he’s talking about.

“Get ready now, Orlando.”

‘For what,’ I’m about to ask, but then, I see it. There it is, to the left – the Atlantic Ocean. The water is dark blue, crowned by the foam of the huge waves which are breaking on the wide sandy beach. It’s amazing.

We follow the road for some more time, and I’m getting excited each time the ocean comes into view again. 

Viggo looks at me and smiles. “Like what you see?”

“Yeah…ever since I left Algeciras.” Now it’s me who’s winking.

He chuckles, grabs my hand and plants a kiss on it. “I’m glad you’re enjoying all this, Orlando.”

“I truly am.”

“That’s good.”

We stop in a town called Mimizan and get some more food for the evening. It’s a busy place. There are tourists everywhere. 

“This part of the coast is very popular at this time of the year,” Viggo says. 

“I can see that. It’s almost flooded with people, kinda scary.”

“No need to worry, though. I know some nice spots, you’ll see.”

******

I see what Viggo means some minutes later. We’ve passed Mimizan-Plage and drive close to the beach now. The traffic lessens with every mile, the only cars we pass drive away from the beach, since it’s early evening already.

He eventually stops. “Okay, lets get our stuff and get to that beach already.”

I grab whatever Viggo gives me and follow him. We cross a dune and then we’re there. And Viggo was right: I can see nobody else around. We’re completely alone on this wonderful beach.

We set up our camp for the night and enjoy the dinner we bought earlier. Since there are no trees or other sources of wood around, we won’t have a fire tonight. But we don’t need it anyway. The moon was full and bright last night, and I guess it won’t be any different tonight.

Viggo sits very close to me as we watch the sun going down in silence. The sky is painted in all different shades of red and orange, and the colourful image is mirrored by the ocean. It looks as if the world’s on fire.

I sigh contentedly and let my head sink down on Viggo’s shoulder. I feel the heat radiating from his body, and I wonder if I might be the reason for it. He kind of answers my inner question by slipping an arm around my waist and drawing me close. I feel his fingers caressing my sides just above my hip, and the light touch feels so intense it makes me shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“No,” I whisper.

He puts one finger under my chin and lifts my head slightly so he can look me in the eyes. “I’d like to warm you up anyway.”

All I do is smile.

I close my eyes and wait for his lips to touch mine, and when they do, I dare not move. Viggo’s hand is still caressing my side, and when he opens his mouth a bit, his tongue begins to trace my lips in a similar pattern. He’s not trying to open me, he’s just…tasting. When I can’t stand it any longer and part my lips, his movements still stay gentle. He’s exploring me, endeavouring to get to know me. 

At some point, Viggo’s withdrawing, inviting me to come with him, and I follow. I enter his mouth the same way he entered mine, and I can’t hold back a small moan in the back of my throat when our tongues finally begin a more demanding dance with each other.

“Come,” Viggo eventually says. He gets up, takes my hand and pulls me up. We go over to our sleeping bags, and Viggo arranges them until they cover a large square of sand, big enough for the both of us to lie down on. I sink down onto the self-made bed and immediately snuggle up close to Viggo again. He bends over me and picks up where we left off. 

We continue our exploration of each other, and it’s not limited to our mouths only anymore. Our hands are involved now as well, and I trace the muscles on his back I admired from afar this morning. His hand has slipped underneath my T-Shirt and is ghosting over my chest and nipples, it’s almost as if he’s teasing me, driving me insane with his almost-touches. 

I’m close to coming from the anticipation alone when he reaches for my trousers and opens them. He reaches inside my boxers and closes his fist around my erection. I indulge myself in the way his calloused fingers stroke my cock before I think that maybe he’d like this experience to be a mutual one.

I’m nervous when I fumble with the buttons of his trousers. Not because I’m afraid of something, but because it just takes me way too long until I manage to get where I want to. 

Viggo moans when I begin to stroke him, trying to match both our paces. It works well, and soon, we’re pleasuring each other in a simultaneous rhythm. Our groans fill the air above and around us, the only other noise is the breaking of the waves, and the moon comes up. Had I any sense of coherency left, I’d notice that this might be one of the most romantic settings I’ve ever been in. But I’m too far gone to realize anything other than Viggo and me, wanking each other more and more passionately.

He comes first, which surprises me a bit. I follow him shortly after, coating his hand with my seed. Next thing I notice is Viggo’s tongue, on my hand this time. He licks me clean before he frees his own hand of my come. I follow the scene mesmerized, see his tongue darting out, and the twilight of the moon makes it all look a bit unreal. 

Viggo finally sinks down on his back next to me. We both look up to the stars.

“It’s a beautiful night,” I break the silence.

“It is. It couldn’t get any better.”

“Who knows…maybe. The beach is quite inspiring.”

“You think so? Hmmm…too bad I wanted us to leave it again tomorrow.”

I’m a bit disappointed by this revelation. “Really? We won’t follow the coastline anymore? Too bad…I like it here with you.” 

“I like it as well, but I had something else planned.”

“You had?” I cuddle up against him, and he places an arm around me. His fingers start to caress me again, and I close my eyes. That’s exactly how I want to fall asleep.

“Yes, I was wondering…” he says. “Orlando, have you ever been to Paris?”

 

~TBC~


	6. Mimizan-Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orlando and Viggo surprise each other.

The first morning, I woke up to a nightmare. The second morning, I woke up from a dream. This morning, all I want is reality to welcome me back. 

And it does. I know so before I open my eyes. Viggo’s lying behind me, I can feel his arm around my waist, holding me with a mixture of caress and protection. His fingers are under my shirt, drawing lazy circles on my skin.

I turn around and face him. His eyes are open, and he looks at me.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Hi.” I snuggle up close to him and place my head in the crook of his neck. I inhale deeply, trying to savour his scent. Sleepy, sandy morning Viggo. 

I hear him sigh, and it sounds happy. Which makes me happy as well. It’s amazing, really. I have no real idea of what is going on between us, but right now, I don’t want to think about it any further. I just want to feel it, indulge in it. 

“You’ve been watching me?” I ask while kissing his neck.

“Mmmm…” he hums as an answer.

“My back? Anything interesting?” I giggle a bit.

He shudders slightly. “Tickles.”

“What, this?” I breathe softly against his neck again.

“Yeah…” he shudders some more and moves away from me. “Cheeky, huh? Teasing an old man first thing in the morning?”

“I see…I kiss you and you say I’m teasing…hmmm…” I pout, sit up and cross my arms in front of my chest. 

“Hehe. Prissy thing, you. But you’re cute when you pout.” He grabs my hips and pulls me back on top of him to kiss me lazily. I realize he’s trying to tickle me as well, but it doesn’t work. He doesn’t know the right spots. 

“You’re immune to all this?” he eventually asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Who knows?” 

“Well then. I’ll get my revenge some other time.”

“I’m shaking.”

Viggo snorts and kisses me again, without attempting to tease me this time. 

I look at the beach when we part, watching the waves break on the shore. 

Suddenly, Viggo gets up. “Fancy a swim?” He stretches his hand out, and I grab it. Why not?

It’s still very early, maybe around 7 am, and nobody’s on the beach yet except for us. That’s why I don’t hesitate to follow suit when Viggo starts to undress completely. I’ve seen him naked before, but this time, I don’t have to hide my glances. I mean, I don’t stare, but I don’t have to feel like a pervert anymore. 

And I know Viggo looks at me as well. I can feel his gaze on me while I undress, and when I turn my head, I catch it. He’s admiring my body, he doesn’t even pretend to hide it. 

“Ready?”

I nod and take his hand.

 

The water is cold, damn. Cold, but refreshing; and it gets better after a few minutes. Viggo and I splash each other and behave like silly children. It’s a good thing nobody’s around. Two grown men, naked and fooling around, people might get the wrong impression…or the right one, depends on the way you look at it. I feel free and very good, as if life’s worries decided to let go off me for a bit. I’d love to get tender with Viggo here and now, but the waves make any longer and gentle body contact impossible. Guess I’ll have to wait a bit then. Just being with him like we are now is enough anyway.

 

He wraps me in a towel he got out of his bag when we’re back at our camp. He rubs me dry, placing kisses on my shoulders and arms.

“Hmmm…salty,” he muses in between.

I chuckle. “What did you expect?”

“Well well…I’m afraid there’s no shower close by.”

“I don’t care.” I really don’t. I know it sounds awful, but still. The salt drying on my skin is some kind of souvenir from this wonderful morning, and I have no problem keeping it as long as possible.

“We can shower later on, I suppose. But for now…” he looks around and points to some movements in the distance, “We’d better get going. Looks as if the first tourists have woken up.”

 

*******

I think I’m falling in love with France. We make our first stop of the day in a small town just outside of Bordeaux. There’s a small café we have a late breakfast in. The croissants are still warm, as is the sun that’s shining on my face. Before we go on, Viggo drags me into a small shop and makes me choose some wine. Yeah, great. It’s not like I’m a wine connoisseur or something, and I’m wondering if Viggo is teasing me again. I show him I’m not the helpless young kid he maybe thinks I am by asking the merchant for his personal advice – in fluent French, I should add. He smiles and we start a discussion before I finally place two bottles on the counter.

“I had no idea your French was so good,” Viggo says as we drive on.

“Why? Just because I don’t speak Spanish? That doesn’t mean I suck at languages in general.”

“I never said that.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate me, Viggo.”

“Oh, I don’t. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

I ponder on that for a while. Somehow, I begin to feel a bit uncomfortable. Is he kind of belittling me here? A stupid idea, I know, and I can’t really explain it further. But I don’t want to, anyway. It’s just good as it is, why should I start worrying about anything right now? Get a grip, Bloom, I scold myself. Just relax and enjoy, for whatever it’s worth.

“You okay, Orlando?” 

“Sure.”

“Good.” He smiles at me and I smile back. We’re fine, we’re okay, we’re having a great time and I love every second of it.

******

We spend most of the day pretty much as the last, driving around, and talking about stuff. We pass a lot of beautiful scenery, and Viggo tells me what it looks like at other times of the year. We drive through cities such as Tours and Orléans, and Viggo describes them to me in detail. It feels as if I’ve been there with him, I can practically see what he’s talking about. He gives me all this information about his previous travels, but he never mentions any other company he might have had. 

I wonder if he just omits them because they were not important to him, or because he thinks they might disturb me. Which they just might, in fact. Is it very silly to be jealous of somebody else who has been travelling around with Viggo? Probably. But then, another thought crosses my mind: maybe there just hasn’t been anybody else. Maybe I’m the first one Viggo ever took along.

Sure, Bloom. As if you’re *that* special. 

“Viggo…you been to Paris before?” I eventually ask him. He already knows I haven’t.

“Yes. Couple of times actually.”

“So, you have any idea where we’ll be staying?” I’m not sure if Viggo plans on camping outside of the city, nor do I know if that’s even possible. All I know is that I’d like to sleep in a proper bed again, as nice as camping with Viggo is. And a decent shower would be nice as well. But I can’t really say so, since I don’t have much money left. Yeah, Viggo said he’d pay for me, lend me whatever I need, but still, it makes me feel awkward.

“Don’t worry, Orlando. I know a place. You’ll like it.”

Okay then. 

******

We reach Paris at sunset. There’s still enough light left for me to take a first look. It’s very busy, but somehow, it doesn’t disturb me as much as it did yesterday when we reached Mimizan. Paris is a capital, after all, and it just has to be crowded. And it’s beautiful. The houses look so very different to those in London, or in Madrid, for that matter. I stare and stare; we reach a river, guess it’s the Seine, and before I know it, the Eiffel Tower comes into view. Amazing. I’m really in Paris.

I must admit I’m relieved to see we reached downtown, which probably means Viggo’s taking us to a hotel, after all. Or something like it. I can only imagine what kind of place a person like Viggo knows. I bet it’s some small, intimate inn.

However, when he finally stops the car some minutes later, my jaw drops. This can’t be the right place, no way.

“Uhm…Viggo?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure…is this the right place?”

He chuckles. “It is. Just trust me.”

I’ll try my best. I look the building up and down again. It looks old and *very* expensive. Wow. There must be some kind of misunderstanding, this just can’t be it.

“Monsieur?” A liveried servant has opened my door and waits for me to get out of the car. I look at him in disbelief. 

“Uhm…sure,” I eventually stutter and exit. I find Viggo at the back of the truck, where he’s talking to another servant.

“Orlando, just show him which one’s your backpack, we’ll leave everything we don’t need in the car for now.” He hands his keys to the man standing between us and motions towards the entrance. “Wanna get inside now?”

I nod, still to stunned to reply in a proper manner. I can see the hotel’s name now. It’s the Four Seasons Hotel George V. Holy shit.

All I can do is follow Viggo. My amazement grows when we enter the lobby. There are even more servants, as well as men in suits and women presenting the latest haute couture. I look down on myself, see my shabby jeans, my crumbled shirt, my sneakers…and feel like out of place. I want to talk to Viggo, tell him how ridiculous this all is. I mean, he doesn’t look much better than me. He’s also wearing very casual clothes, both our hair is still messy from our early morning bath in the sea, and Jesus, it can only be a matter of seconds before somebody will kick us out of this posh place.

But Viggo doesn’t seem to care. He walks straight towards the reception. 

I embrace myself for the inevitable embarrassment I expect to happen when the porter looks up from behind the counter. Three, two, one…

“Bonjour…Monsieur Mortensen!” 

Huh? I wonder for a moment if he hasn’t seen us yet, when I realize he *is* talking to us. Viggo is Monsieur Mortensen. And he’s nodding at the porter. “Hello, Jean-Luc.” 

“So good to see you, Monsieur Mortensen. I will inform Monsieur Dupont of your arrival.”

“Merci, Jean Luc.”

I drag on Viggo’s arm and we take a few steps back from the counter. “Viggo,” I whisper, “what is going on here? How do you know people in a place like this?”

He smirks mysteriously. “I just know them, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but…this hotel…you…I mean, no offence, but you think this is the right one for us?” ‘How can you afford such a place?’ I want to add, but decide I’d better leave it out.

“Just stop worrying, it’s ok. I know this might come as a bit of a surprise…”

“A surprise?” I squeak. That’s nicely put. I’ve spent two nights under the sky with this man who looks like a hobo, drives an old truck that’s about to fall apart and wears the shabbiest clothes thinkable. And now he guides me into the most posh place I’ve ever been to and people know his name. And what do *I* know about Mr Mortensen? Not half as much as I thought, it seems.

“Orlando, the manager’s an old friend of mine, that’s all. No big story behind it, I’m afraid.”

I knit my brow, when I hear a deep voice shouting “Viggo!” and a small bald man heads towards us. He embraces Viggo and kisses him on his cheeks, one, two, three times, thanks, that’s enough. 

“Viggo, mon dieu, why didn’t you tell me you’re in town? I had no idea…”

“Pierre, this is a spontaneous visit. I’d have called you, but well…”

“Don’t worry, Viggo, it’s just so good to see you again. You know it’s always a pleasure to welcome you here. It’s important for…”

“Yeah, thanks, Pierre,” Viggo cuts him off and smiles at his friend. “Please…you make me feel embarrassed.”

“Oh Viggo, modest as usual. But, ah! How rude of me! Excusez-moi, Monsieur…” 

“Oh yes. Orlando, this is my old friend Pierre Dupont, manager of this wonderful place. Pierre, this is Orlando…”

“Bloom,” I help him out and shake Pierre’s hand. “I’m Orlando Bloom. Pleasure, Monsieur Dupont.”

“The pleasure’s mine, Monsieur Bloom. It’s good to see Viggo in company for a change.”

“Well, yeah.” Viggo cuts him off again, but Pierre doesn’t seem to mind. Hmm…guess I was right then? No other company?

“Pierre, if we’re arriving at an inconvenient time, I know its high season and all…”

“Viggo, please. You know I always have space for you. Just wait a second.” He walks to the counter and talks to a member of his staff.

Viggo’s smile is wide when he looks at me. “Don’t underestimate me, Orlando.” 

“I don’t. You just surprised me,” I reply, much harsher than I intend to.

He steps closer to me. “Listen, if you don’t like this place, we can go somewhere else. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. It’s just like I told you, Pierre’s an old friend, and I always stay here while I’m in Paris, so…”

“Viggo, it’s okay,” I silence him. He really seems worried now, and I still don’t know why I’m acting this weird. I sigh. “Really. I was just a bit…like I said, surprised. I’m not uncomfortable. This place is amazing.”

“Okay.” He reaches for my hand and smiles when I squeeze it.

Pierre chooses this moment to return.

“You are such a lucky man, Viggo. High season or not, your *special room* is available.” He winks at us.

“Perfect.”

Pierre looks at our joined hands. “Uhm…do you need the second bedroom?”

I have no idea what Pierre is talking about, but I know that I won’t spend the night apart from Viggo. “I don’t think we need it, Monsieur Dupont,” I answer.

“Bien.” Pierre waves two servants towards us. “Your luggage will be brought up. Enjoy your stay. And don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Pierre,” Viggo says, and we walk towards the lifts.

******

The door opens on the seventh floor. Viggo steps into the corridor and stops in front of a huge wooden door. There’s a plate on it reading “Empire Suite.” He opens it and we step inside.

Ok, ok. If I said I was stunned when I saw the hotel from the outside, or the splendid lobby, forget it. 

“Go, have a look around,” Viggo says, and that’s just what I do. 

First of all: this place is huge. The living room alone is big enough to host both my neighbour’s flat and mine. There’s a big table with eight chairs in the dining area, as well as a working area with a computer and all. And a kitchen. Jesus. But it’s not only the size. The whole room is crowded with all kinds of art. There are paintings on the wall and statues standing on small tables. I don’t doubt they’re all original pieces. And oh my, the whole furniture is art itself. Everything is made of dark wood, which gives the room a cosy atmosphere. I think I know why Viggo likes this place. However, I don’t know if I even dare to sit in these armchairs. 

There’s another door on one side, and I feel as if I’m on an expedition when I open it, curious to see what’s behind it. It’s the bedroom. The prominent king-sized bed looks more than a bit inviting. It’s so big that I could still spend the night apart from Viggo, even if we’d both been sleeping in it.

The adjoining bathroom is decorated in green marble. I’m speechless. 

Viggo’s at the door, tipping the servant who brought our luggage, when I get back into the living room. I only notice the glass doors now and step outside onto a terrace. The view is breathtaking. 

Shortly afterwards, I feel arms around my waist and lean my head back onto Viggo’s shoulder.

“You like it?” he breathes against my neck.

“Viggo…I don’t know what to say. This suite must cost a fortune.”

“A small one. But it doesn’t matter, I told you.”

“You can’t tell me we’re staying here for free.”

“I’m telling you it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“But…”

“Shht. Just enjoy, ok? As much as I enjoy you being here with me.”

“Okay.” I smile at him.

“Good. So…do you want to go out tonight?”

“I don’t know…depends on when we’re leaving tomorrow, I guess. I mean, I’ve never been to Paris, and I’d really love to see a bit of it.”

“You will. I plan on showing you as much as possible tomorrow. I thought we could stay one day, leave the day after, how does that sound?”

One day. Equals two nights in this bed. “Sounds wonderful, Viggo.”

“Hmmm…” he leans towards me and kisses me slowly. “Then maybe we’ll just stay in tonight? Have some nice diner and enjoy the view?”

“Yes…but a shower first, please.”

“Okay. You just go ahead, while I order dinner for us.”

Hm. A shower with Viggo would’ve been nicer, but who knows if I’d ever get clean if he’d join me. And damn, I know I described the salt on my skin in romantic terms this morning, but it needs to go now.

You won’t appreciate a proper shower until you haven’t had one in two days, believe me. It’s such a great feeling, standing under the cascades of water, washing all the dirt and dust off my body. And it gets even better. When I’m finished, there’s a fluffy fresh bathrobe waiting for me. I wrap myself in it, leave the bathroom and jump on the bed.

This is like heaven. 

“My turn?” Viggo asks when he enters.

“Yup, you dirty human, you,” I tease him.

He smirks and goes into the bathroom.

I lie for some more moments on the bed, before I get up and dress. Hm. I feel like cleaning up a bit. I haven’t got a very big choice on what to wear, as I only packed the most important stuff. However, I do have a shirt that might pass as fancy, under the given circumstances. And I’ve also got a pair of non-demin trousers. There. I still don’t look half as good as everybody else in this hotel, but it’s the best I can do.

I decide to wait for Viggo on the terrace. The sun has gone down by now, but the night is still warm. I look at the illuminated buildings near by. Ok, I can make out the Eiffel Tower, it’s not that big a problem. But there are some other buildings that are lit in a way suggesting they’re somewhat important. I have to ask Viggo later, surely he can tell me more.

I almost don’t notice the knock at the door. 

“Can you get it, Orlando? I’m not properly dressed yet,” I hear Viggo as I cross the living room. 

“Sure, I’ll get it,” I shout back and open.

Two servant are waiting outside. “Bonsoir, Room Service,” one of them announces and shoves a small wagon into the suite. The men aim for the terrace, and I follow them curiously. Without saying anything else, they cover the iron table with a blanket and begin to set it. Plates and cutlery are being arranged, wine is being opened and poured into two glasses. The whole ceremony doesn’t take any longer than two, maybe three minutes, and just as the men are finished, Viggo joins us.

“Thanks a lot,” he says and hands one of the servants a bill.

“Merci, and enjoy your dinner.” Both men bow and leave us alone.

“Hey, handsome,” Viggo says as he’s walking towards me. He doesn’t look bad himself, I must say. Guess we both had the same idea about cleaning up. Viggo’s wearing a purple shirt and black trousers, but no shoes. But it fits him, I decide. It’s Viggo-ish.

“And you are?” I ask him. “Help me, I’m expecting one travelling artist for dinner.”

“It’s his free day today.”

“Oh. Okay, let’s see if the substitute is any good.”

Without further ado, Viggo kisses me deep and passionately. “And?” he asks when we part.

“Oh, I think we’re fine.”

“We’ll be even better once we’ve had some food.”

******

The dinner is good, the wine is perfect, but not enough. I remember the two bottles we bought earlier, and soon enough, one of them is almost empty, too. Viggo satisfies my curiosity and tells me about the buildings surrounding us. 

“There’s Les Invalides, where Napoleon’s bones are buried. And Montparnasse Tower, see?”

I nod and follow Viggo’s arm that’s pointing out into the night. But I don’t feel like talking about bones right now. Not Napoleon’s at least. 

“Viggo…would you take me to bed?”

The sudden change of topics seems to confuse him for a second. “Sure,” he whispers when he’s composed himself again. “Come with me.”

 

~TBC~

[The Empire Suite at the Four Seasons Hotel George V in Paris...click here to see it ;)](http://anonym.to/?http://www.fourseasons.com/paris/accommodations/suites/empire_suite/)


	7. Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you need to let go.

We enter the bedroom in silence. Viggo is standing right in front of me, very close, but still not close enough. Our hands reach out simultaneously for each other’s shirt, and we begin to undress. Viggo looks at me, almost insecurely, as if he’s scanning my face for doubt; but he won’t find any. I want this man so very much.

He leads me to the bed when we’re both naked. It’s strange, I feel like a virginal bride on her wedding night, and I can’t stand this strange tension any longer. I have to giggle.

“Orlando?”

“Sorry…but…why are we silent?”

“I don’t know…” There it is again, the insecure look on Viggo’s face. Who’s the virginal bride now?

“Hey,” I say and pull him on top off me. Our cocks touch, and we both moan at the sudden contact.

“I want you, Viggo. Please. Take me.” 

“Do we have…” 

“Right. Sorry.” I get up and pull out lube and condoms from my rucksack lying on the floor.

“Here.” I hand Viggo the items and he puts them down next to him. 

I pull him back on top off me, trying to show him how serious I am. Once more, our erections brush against each other, and wow, does that feel good. “If you’ve arranged all this to seduce me, well, you’ve done a great job, Viggo,” I murmur as I kiss his neck. I feel him chuckling against my skin.

“I want you too, Orlando.”

Oh yes. Finally. 

He presses his hip against me, and we moan again. I lightly scratch his back, hoping he knows I appreciate the way he’s making our bodies get to know each other better. 

Viggo feels good on top of me. I bet he’d feel even better inside me.

His tongue does, I decide as he enters my mouth with it. But I know that already. And as nice as it is, I need more. I bring one hand between us and search for his erection. I close my fist around it once I’ve found it, just like I did last night. 

Viggo’s tongue picks up a faster pace, making me groan deeply somewhere in the back of my throat.

He slips off of me, gaining more access for his hand to caress my body. It moves up and down my side in languid strokes. Viggo’s eyes follow the movement. “You’re so amazing… do you have any idea of the impact you have on others?” 

“Well… Maybe, maybe not, but right now,” I squeeze his cock more firmly, “all I want is to make an impact on you.”

“You have already, Orlando, can’t you…uhm…feel it?” His hard dick thrusts into my hand.

Now, that’s what I call a prosperous outlook. “Jesus, Viggo…”

He kisses me, and I find myself cheering inwardly when his hand moves further down. It lingers at the base of my cock for a while and then proceeds, until his index finger circles my entrance. Hmmmm… With all the force I can manage, I suck his tongue into my mouth.

I swallow his following moan as well; it’s low and echoes back in my throat. 

He somehow manages to break free from me once I lessen the tension I’m holding him with. Viggo smirks and reaches for the lube. He doesn’t look at me while he coats his fingers, so I just lay back and wait for him to prepare me as well.

And then the finger’s back, feeling much more slippery now, and he pushes it in slowly. I bend my legs and put my feet flat on the mattress to ease the passage for him. He pushes some more, in and out again, until I’m comfortable enough for him to add another finger. 

It’s okay, Viggo, I think. He’s really taking it the slow way, which is cute, but I’m so eager and have a hard time controlling myself. Viggo moves in and out, scissors his fingers and repeats. He does know where my prostate is, yeah?

Oh shit, he does. And how he does.

“Fuck, yes,” I yell when he makes stars explode behind my eyelids. I haven’t felt like that in quite some time, and I spontaneously decide never to wait as long again until I get a good shagging. For good it will be, it has to be.

“Viggo…I’m ready,” I whisper, because yes, patience is only a sweet memory right now.

“Ok,” he whispers back and withdraws for some moments to put more lube and one of the condoms to good use.

I spread my legs wide when he positions himself above me. He looks at me, very sweet and tender, and I catch myself letting out a happy sigh. What a sappy fool I can in a pre-coital moment like this, it’s unbelievable.

Viggo seems to be frozen on spot, or maybe it’s just my anticipation that makes seconds become a lifetime, but I need my travelling artist inside me *now*. I move again, circle his waist with my legs and press his body closer. Eventually, he gets the idea and enters me.

He slips in just like that, which is rather strange; it’s not that his cock is very small or anything, on the contrary. Guess some things were just made to fit. 

Viggo moves in and out of me, he touches my spot at almost every attempt, and we rock together, both of us whimpering softly. 

It’s nice, but…well, it’s nice, you know? Like I said, he touches my spot, he doesn’t hit it. I mean…don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’m not enjoying this, oh no. It’s just that I expected something a bit…different. Look, Viggo’s a man, a real man I mean, like he’s got this fuzzy hair on his chest, well defined muscles in all the right places and this gorgeous cock I’m sure he can handle way better. I even wonder for a second or two if I’m the first guy he’s with…but that can’t be it, I’m pretty sure. It’s strange. He’s holding back, and I have no idea why. All I know is that we both can go down to business a whole lot better, and that’s what I want.

I reach out and grab his buttocks, trying to make him move somewhat faster. But he doesn’t let me.

“Viggo…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m…” Now, how to proceed? Without insulting his performance? “I can take it, you know. Let go.”

“Orlando…I just…I want it to be good.”

“Me too.” I take his face into my hands and force him to look at me. He pauses his movement. “Please, Viggo. It’s okay. Just…let go.”

He sighs deeply. “Ok.”

I smile at him encouragingly. He starts to move again, and he enters me twice the same way as before.

But then, I feel him inhaling on top of me, and, oh sweet Mother of Mary. Viggo comes down and thrusts into me, and now, he actually hits my prostate. Really hard. Back out and in again, he’s pounding now, he’s fucking me, and, oh yes.

“Viggo! Yes! That’s it! That’s it!” I cry while I’m about to get torn apart. 

I hear Viggo grunting above me, and my legs slip from his body to its side, they spread even wider. I’m completely aroused now, my whole body is, and I feel Viggo everywhere, plundering me, deeper, harder, faster. Oh god. That’s what I want, what I need right now. I just need to let off some steam, to lose myself around Viggo, to feel something strong and burning inside of me.

“Fuck me, Viggo, yes,” I moan, and he growls as an answer. He’s a beast, an absolute beast, and he fucks me while my moans change to a whimper and back again. 

And then Viggo suddenly joins me in my horny chanting. “Yes… Fuck!” he shouts. “Oh, it’s good, it’s good,” he lets go shortly after.

I catch his sweaty neck with my hands and draw him nearer to my face; I need him to kiss me. I need to feel his tongue ravishing my mouth the same way his cock is ravishing my ass, and if there was a third possibility for me to feel this way, believe me, I’d find it.

I know I can’t take it much longer when Viggo squeezes his hand between us and starts to pump my cock. Oh yeah. I feel my orgasm building up inside me, and it’s a very good feeling indeed.

“Gonna come…” I inform him.

“Come, yes, come for me,” he pants, and that’s a favour he doesn’t have to ask for twice. I writhe underneath him, try to thrust back against his hand on my erection; against his cock deep inside my ass, against anything Viggo-ish I can thrust back against.

“Oooohhhh…yesyesyesssss.” My cry ends as a hiss as I finally come. It’s such a sweet release. I have my eyes shut in this moment, but I know he’s looking at me. 

And he’s close as well. I can feel him throb, and I squeeze my inner muscles. Which makes him come undone; I’m proud to admit. He shudders, pounds into me one more time and climaxes, making the weirdest and most sexy noises at the same time.

Another funny sound: his sweaty body falling down on mine once he’s spilled everything he had to give. I can barely move, but I somehow feel obliged to reassure him. I lift my arm and stroke his head, let my fingers wander through the mess of hair on it.

He eventually turns slightly and looks at me. His mouth opens to form a question, but I give him his answer before he says anything at all.

“That was amazing, Viggo.”

“It really was.” He smiles and kisses me for a long time, all tender and gentle, which is just what I need right now. See, it’s not all about hard fucking.

“You’re okay then?” he asks afterwards.

“More than okay.”

“Good.”

He lays down next to me, reaches for the covers and pulls them over our bodies. It’s only then when I realize it’s this awesome bed we’re lying in, and I know I will have the best sleep in a long time tonight. Viggo embraces me and places butterfly kisses on my neck and shoulder.

“Mmmhhhhh…” I murmur.

“Tired now?”

“Yeah…you’ve worn me out.”

“You asked for it.”

“I did. And I have to thank you for granting me this.”

He chuckles. “Pleasure.”

“Mmmhhh…” I murmur again and cuddle up against Viggo’s still hot body. I’m asleep about five seconds later.

******

“So what do you want to see today?” Viggo asks me next morning while we’re about to finish our breakfast. It’s perfect, of course. As was the morning so far: there was no awkwardness between us when we woke up, though I might have feared it. It was okay, Viggo kissed me and we held each other until my rumbling stomach forced us out of bed. 

“I’ve got free choice?” I answer him with another question.

“Sure. I’ve pretty much seen everything here, so it’s all up to you, being your first time and all that.”

“Hmmmm…well, if it’s fine with you, I’d really love to take the tourist route, know what I mean?”

“Disneyland?”

“Jesus, no!”

Viggo chuckles. “No?”

“Of course not. I need something real… Like the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Coeur, Notre Dame, and maybe the Louvre...you need to stop me if it’s getting too much.”

“It’s okay. Most of it is pretty close by, so we can walk or use the Métro. I haven’t been to some of these places for some time, so let’s do it. But you won’t make use of all the gift shops will you?”

“Huh?”

“Well, like buy a shirt for you friend, a mug for you mother, a miniature Eiffel Tower for...”

“I could send some postcards…”

Viggo wrinkles his brow and I snort.

“Relax, I’m just joking.”

 

So yes, Paris the tourist way then. But it’s a good thing, since I got my personal travel guide with me. We start at the Eiffel Tower, which is within walking distance. Viggo wants to climb the stairs, but I’m a little sore from our fucking last night, and he lets go off his idea pretty fast when I tell him what’s the matter. 

“On second thought…the elevator is fine with me,” he quickly agrees.

Viggo has brought his camera along and we take some pics of each other with this amazing view of Paris in the background. 

Back on solid ground, we walk towards Lés Invalides, and Viggo takes my hand while we cross the Champ de Mars. Is it the city or us? I don’t know, but I’m so happy and satisfied that I just smile, smile, smile.

Notre Dame is amazing. All the places we go to, it’s strange, really. I mean, I’ve seen them all before, in pictures or in films, and they still look so different in reality. Much more imposing.

Viggo and I have a light lunch near the Seine before he takes me to the Louvre. He is in his element here. And in such a good mood he doesn’t even argue when I force him to take a picture of the Mona Lisa.

“You still got some energy left?” he asks me later this afternoon while we’re walking along the Rue de Rivoli, looking out for a Métro station.

“Sure.”

“Okay…you wanna see Sacre Coeur and Montmartre then?”

I nod when my eyes catch something. “That’s…not possible…” I stutter and step closer to the green Jeep with the Spanish license plate that’s parked off the street.

“What’s wrong?” Viggo asks behind me.

“The car…” I check again, and yes, it really is Juan’s. I quickly scan the surrounding scene. The Spaniard’s nowhere to be seen, but dammit, this is his Jeep parked right here in front of me.

“Orlando?” I left poor Viggo out of the loop.

“Viggo. This car belongs to Juan. Remember?”

“Oh…the guy who tricked you?”

“Yeah…” I look around some more. There’s a bank two buildings further down the street, and I recognize the person leaving it even from the distance.

“There he is,” I shout and run towards him. 

“Orlando…wait!” I hear Viggo calling, but I don’t stop.

Juan doesn’t see me. I and shove him hard. “You fucker! You fucking prick!”

He looks at me, amazed. Didn’t expect to see me again so soon, huh?

Viggo has caught up with me and tries to drag me away from him. “Come on, Orlando, just calm down…”

“Viggo,” I say, struggling against his grip, “I can handle it.”

“But there’s no point…”

“Viggo! I can handle it!” I bark and he lets go off me. I turn my attention back to Juan. “Long time no see, huh?” 

“Orlando…you have no idea how good it is to see you here,” he answers and I’m startled. Not because of what he says, but how. Orlando? No more Whorelando? And a full English sentence without a single grammatically mistake? I feel anger rising within me once again, looks as if I’ve been tricked in more than just one way.

“What the fuck are you talking about, you wanker?” I spit. “And…what happened to ‘oh, English no good’, huh? HUH?” I shove him again and hear Viggo inhaling sharply behind me.

“Orlando, listen,” Juan begins, and for whatever reason, I decide to do just that. 

“Yeah?” I ask, tapping my foot impatiently.

“I’m so sorry, really… I had no idea how much of a bitch Julie really was, I swear! It was all her idea, you have to believe me!”

“Sure,” I say, adding as much sarcasm to my voice as possible.

“Really…I met her while I was studying in London, near the end of the term…she told me about her great plans of travelling around in Europe, and we decided to do it together. I had to leave for Spain earlier, so we wanted to meet in Málaga…she called me one day before and told me about a…uhm…about you and that she said you were some spoilt, rich kid, so she came up with her idea, like saying we’d go to Africa and of me pretending to be…”

“Yes, I think I got it,” I silence him. “And where is she now? Because I’d just *love* to chat with her as well.”

“I…I don’t know…oh, she tricked me, the cunt!”

I’m about to burst into laughter. “Awwww, Juan…she tricked you? Tsk tsk. What a mean woman, huh?”

“She is, oh yes. We stayed in Orléans for the night, and she wanted to take me to her place today…but when I woke up this morning, she was gone, as well as my wallet, my watch, my cell…”

“Hmmm…” I muse, “This sounds oddly familiar.”

“Orlando.” His voice is serious. “You have to help me. We have to get our things back.”

I look at him, and now, I do burst out in laughter. “Juan…” I whimper as soon as I can talk again, “you must be joking.”

“No, really, we have to find her, you and your…friend here, together, we can...”

“Forget it, Juan. I’m not interested in your sad story, it’s your own fault.”

“But she got your thing as well! Your pass, your money, everything!” he sounds desperate, which makes me feel very good.

I shrug. “She can keep it. Helping you is the last thing I would think of doing. Goodbye, Juan. Have fun roaming Paris for that bitch.”

I’m about to turn and leave, when Juan calls out for me once again. “But Orlando…how am I supposed to get back to Spain? Without money and all that?”

I shrug again. “I really don’t care. Just try and find someone who’ll help you…though I doubt you’ll be as lucky as I was. In fact…should you find Julie, tell her I’m even thankful for what she did.”

To see Juan’s miserable look as I close my fingers around Viggo’s hand and turn away from him is worth more than whatever Julie took away from me.

 

“Are you okay?” Viggo asks when we left Juan behind.

“Yep. I feel really good, you know? Does that make me a mean person, to feel good about Juan’s suffering?”

“No, I don’t think so. It was very rude of him to even ask you to help him.”

“Yeah…speaking of which…I’m sorry if I…”

“Orlando, it’s okay. I understand that you were enraged. I just wanted to stop you from doing something you might regret.”

“You did. Thanks, Viggo.”

He squeezes my hand. “Still up for Sacre Coeur?”

“Hell, yes. I feel like a holy heart is just what I need right now.”

 

~tbc~

 


	8. Paris-Amsterdam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams might become reality, but you might still have to wake up.

No matter how old you are, a bubble bath is something everybody enjoys, isn’t it? Especially after such a long and, in the end, really tiresome day. Viggo practically dragged me all across Paris; not that I really minded, I mean, I asked for it. However, after spending several days in the truck, just sitting around and not moving very much, our tour through France’s capital finally took its toll.

By now, I think Viggo only has great ideas. Then again, the luxurious bathroom and its splendid tub just beg to be used. And that’s what we did when we finally reached the hotel again.

Viggo’s lying behind me, my back pressed against his chest. He’s busy rinsing my body with a sponge, and I have my eyes closed, just enjoying the treatment.

“Mmmhhhh,” I murmur every now and then, showing him how much I appreciate this washing session.

“Like that?” he asks and presses the sponge again. Small cascades of warm water run down on my chest.

“Very much. I like everything. This whole suite is just amazing. Why do you stay here, Viggo?”

“I told you, Pierre’s my friend, and we…”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Not the hotel. Why do you choose this suite? Bet they got some more, why this one?”

“Oh. Well… it’s the whole atmosphere, I think. You know,” he strokes my chest again, drawing lazy circles around my nipples, “all the beautiful artwork in here, it’s dedicated to Napoleon and Josephine. And…uhm…”

“What?”

“Might sound kinda strange, but their story, you know, it just touches me. You know it?”

“Not really. We Brits are not really that interested in Napoleon, you know.”

“Yes, sure.”

He falls silent.

“So tell me, Viggo.” I’m really interested in what touches him. 

“Ok then. When Napoleon met Josephine, he was still quite young and unknown…and she was several years older than him, had been married before and had two almost grown kids. Anyway, they fell in love and married. It wasn’t that easy, since his family wasn’t too fond of her… but well, they loved each other and went through everything.”

“Hmmm…sounds nice.”

“But there was one problem they couldn’t solve. She couldn’t bear him any children.”

“But he had children, didn’t he?”

“Yeah. He had to divorce her and married a younger woman instead, one who could bear him a son.”

“Oh.”

“It’s just… it’s a good example that sometimes, love isn’t enough, you know? I mean, you might love somebody, but you just can’t stay with the person for whatever reasons. Different lives, whatever. And in the end, you have to break apart and both suffer.” 

“Hm.” Somehow, this whole conversation is taking a turn I don’t like. I can’t really put my thumb on it, but there is some desperate sound in Viggo’s voice, and I’m not fond of it.

“So I think,” he goes on, “why fall in love to begin with? If you really care about somebody, wouldn’t it be better not to involve too many feelings so you both can make a clear exit once the time comes?”

“Geez, Viggo, that doesn’t fit,” I say. “On the one hand, you ramble about all this romantic stuff, how they love each other despite all consequences, and then you say it’s unnecessary in the first place?”

“Well, just because I don’t think it’s necessary doesn’t mean I can’t...”

“Bullshit, Viggo,” I interrupt him. “You’re a chicken, that’s all. Or haven’t been in love enough… or have been and it didn’t turn out the best thing, so what? Ok, so you’ve been hurt and are careful now, I get it. But never say never, yeah? ‘Cause you never know. Your luck might just be around the corner. Hope dies last, yeah?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, I fear I’ve gone too far. But when he finally speaks up again, there’s slight amusement audible in his voice.

“I’m a chicken?” 

“Yup. A big, hairy chicken. Or would you prefer to be a cock?” 

He chuckles behind me, and I can feel his chest moving behind me. I snuggle closer to him, pressing my ass shamelessly against his groin.

“What have you got in mind, Orlando?”

“Me? Nothing…” I remark innocently and wiggle my ass some more, causing Viggo to laugh again. Some of the water splashes out of the tub, leaving a little pool of bubbles on the floor.

“See what you’ve done?” Viggo asks.

“Sorry. You want me to wipe it off?”

“Hmmm… I think I have some better use for you,” he whispers in my ear with a husky undertone in his voice. My body responds and tenses from anticipation. Whatever he’s got in mind, I hope he remembers I’m not fragile and doesn’t treat me like a doll again. 

He moves behind me. “Let’s get outta here. The water’s cold anyway.”

We both get out of the tub and I wrap myself into the bathrobe he hands me. I wonder if I can snatch one of these, but it’s probably not the best idea, since Viggo’s friends with the manager and I don’t want to get him into trouble.

Viggo’s busy with letting the bathwater out, so I move over to the bedroom ahead of him. With a loud sigh, I drop down on the mattress, spreading my arms and legs and stretching my body.

“Awwww,” I comment when Viggo enters the room, “it’s like paradise.”

“Hmmm…” he murmurs and looks at me. The cord of my bathrobe is open, and I don’t hide anything from Viggo’s gaze.

He steps closer to the bed and drops onto his knees when he’s reached it. He then grabs my ankles and draws my body closer to him.

“Hey…” I say, not really complaining seriously.

A soon as my feet touch the ground, Viggo bends over and rests his head in my crotch. He moves his head from one side to another, and I can feel the tip of his nose wandering along the inside of my thighs. 

“Mhhh…getting even better,” I whisper.

Viggo shortly looks up to me before his face descends again between my legs. I moan when he licks around the base of my half erect cock.

Viggo’s tongue is doing some pretty good stuff down there, leaving a wet trail on my dick and balls. It’s just a matter of seconds until I’m sporting a rather proud erection. Viggo closes his mouth around its head, sucking on me like a lollipop for some moments. At some point, his hands slip underneath my buttocks, and he pushes my erection deeper inside his cavern.

God, this is good. It’s like my dream from the other morning becoming a reality, only this is so much better. Viggo’s fingernails dig into my ass, and I move my hips a bit, checking if he minds. He doesn’t, so I help him and begin to raise my hips up and down in rhythm with his own movements. His tongue is pressed against the underside of my cock and he takes more of me inside his mouth every time I’m pushing in. The pressure of his fingers on my ass lessens, and I move faster.

“Oh God,” I moan as I buck my hips again. And then I raise my head; I just have to see what we’re doing.

It’s so dirty I groan. Viggo’s head is bobbing up and down around my cock, and he eyes me while I fuck his mouth. Once he’s made sure I look down on him, one of his hands leaves my ass. I watch as Viggo opens his bathrobe and reaches down with the obvious intent to touch himself. 

I rise completely until I’m in a sitting position, forcing Viggo to lean back a bit. His eyes never leave mine, he practically begs me to watch. And now I can see everything. I see myself thrusting in and out of Viggo’s mouth and I also see one of his hands wrapped around his erection. He’s wanking himself fast and hard, just like the way I pound into him.

“Viggo…fuck…yes…” I mumble incoherently, and then, the ability to speak leaves me completely. I only pant and gasp when Viggo hums around my cock. God, I’m so close, so fucking close. And he’s still looking at me, but I can’t hold his gaze all the time. My eyes have to wander, they can’t decide on one of the visual stimuli he’s offering me alone.

The hand that’s still on my ass grabs me again, and I look down as a reflex. Viggo’s coming. The come spurts out of him in long splashes, and I watch in awe as he squeezes his head, milking himself. It’s one sight too much. I thrust into his mouth once more, my body’s actually lifting up from the mattress, and I find my own release. I come inside his mouth, and he sucks me off until I’m completely spent.

I fall back down as soon as he lets go off me, still panting.

Viggo crawls up onto the mattress next to me. He bends over and kisses me hard, and I can still taste myself on his tongue.

He smirks at me when we part.

“Wow, Viggo. That was… amazing,” I say as soon as I trust my voice again.

He smiles some more. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“What’s not to enjoy? T’was fucking fantastic,” I add and move up on the bed so I can lie down completely. Viggo follows me and snuggles up close to me. I really love the way he just made me come, hard and dirty, but I also appreciate his tender behaviour now. I lift one arm, inviting him into an embrace, and he accepts.

We just lie there for a while, stroking each other lightly. 

“Think it’s time for my usual question,” I finally break the silence.

“What’s that?”

“What are the plans for tomorrow?”

“Oh, that…I wanted to talk to you about this anyway. It kinda depends on you.”

“Huh?”

“Well… where you want to board your ferry.”

I’m shocked. Not because Viggo brought up the fact that we’d have to part sooner or later, but because I hadn’t thought about it. I’d completely forgotten about it, and the sudden realization hits me cold.

“Oh,” I simply say. 

“It’s your choice, really. You could cross the Channel from France or Belgium, we could drive to Calais or Ostend tomorrow then. Or, if you want to see some more… I mean, my exhibition opens in three days. I’ve still got some things to do before, so it’d be good if I arrived in Denmark the day after tomorrow. Which means we could spend one more night, maybe in The Netherlands. If you want to take the ferry from Germany, that is. Which takes longer, I think you’ll travel overnight then.”

“Uhm, doesn’t matter how long the ferry takes,” I mumble, too confused to come up with a better reply. It feels as if Viggo’s trying to get rid of me, and it hurts. But that’s silly, I know. What did I expect?

“Ok. I’ll tell Pierre tomorrow morning, and he can book a ticket for you. Sounds good?”

“Yeah.”

“Germany it is then. And a night in Amsterdam maybe?”

“Sure.”

We fall silent again. Viggo continues to stroke me, but I just lay there, motionless. The thoughts are whirling like crazy in my head, and I don’t know what’s going on anymore.

“Wanna sleep?” Viggo eventually asks, and I nod. He flicks the light off and draws the blanket above us.

I can’t sleep, though. I still try to bring some kind of structure to my messed up brain. I still try to figure out why I’m hurt and confused. Because I like Viggo, a lot. And because he’s pushing me away in a way.

But this is so damn stupid. We were travel companions from the start, nothing more, nothing less. So what am I complaining about now? Viggo treated me way better than I could have ever expected. He helped me, took me along, gave me shelter. 

Was it only pity? Or more like a give and take? I let him fuck me… did he use me for that only?

Nah, I can’t blame Viggo like this. He’d been so gentle last night, so tender and careful, as if… as if he cared more than this, right? 

But maybe that’s just him, caring and gentle no matter what. And as long as I’m not even sure what I want, how can I ask Viggo any of this?

*******

I eventually drift off to sleep at some point, and when I wake up the next morning, I feel a whole lot better. I guess it was just the afterthought of the sad love story Viggo told me plus the fucking hot blowjob he gave me afterwards that put me off track for a while, making me all sappy and whiny.

Fact is, I’m thankful for everything that happened between us. I’m glad I met Viggo, glad I got the chance to know him and spend time with him. Those days will always be in my memory, that’s for sure. I’ve learnt a lot from Viggo in this short time, maybe I’ve even got to know myself a bit better. And there was a mutual attraction between us, so why not add some sizzling sex to the picture? But hey, I’m grown up and know what’s going to happen as soon as I’m back in England. Out of sight out of mind, yes? It’s not my first holiday romance and certainly won’t be my last.

“’Morning, Orlando.”

I turn and find Viggo smiling at me. “Hey, Viggo. You slept well?”

“I sure did.”

“What time is it?” I turn to check my watch. It’s 9:30 am, quite late. “Uhm…why didn’t you wake me?”

Viggo shrugs. “No reason to hurry. Pierre said we can breakfast as long as we want, and I figured you needed some sleep.”

Guess I did. I still don’t know when I finally slept last night, but I’m sure it was late. “Thanks, Viggo.”

He bends over and kisses my forehead. “Shall I call Pierre then? I’m sure he’d send something up for us.” 

“Sure.”

I get up and use the bathroom while Viggo calls his friend.

 

We have breakfast on our terrace, enjoying the view across Paris for the last time. Viggo tells me about his first visit to this town, almost ten years ago. Suddenly I realize I have no idea how old he is exactly, and I’m curious to find out. But I don’t dare to ask him. I mean, it’s a strange situation. I’ve spent four days with him, though it feels much longer, I slept next to him, in his arms, he fucked me, we even shared a bath. How do you ask a person you’ve done all these things with about their age without sounding like a complete idiot?

We pack our stuff when we’re finished and get ready to leave. I take a last admiring look around in this beautiful suite; I’m sure I’ll never spend a night in such a room again. 

 

Pierre is waiting for us at the reception.

“Viggo, Mr Bloom,” he greets us and asks the usual questions, if we enjoyed our stay and all that. I say that I had a wonderful time, which is the simple truth.

“Mr Bloom,” he then says, “I booked a place for you on the ferry. It leaves Hamburg tomorrow afternoon and arrives in Harwich the morning after. The ticket’s reserved on your name, and you can pick it up with the temporary papers you received in Madrid. As you can see, everything’s been taken care of.”

“Thanks a lot, Mr Dupont,” I answer politely and see Viggo winking at me. As if I don’t know he’s behind all this.

“And Mr Bloom, should you ever come to Paris again, I’d be honoured to have you as my guest. Viggo’s friends are my friends, too.”

I can’t help but smile when I shake Pierre’s hand. “Thanks again, for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Viggo, same goes for you, I hope to see you again soon. And have a safe journey from here on, the both of you.”

 

******

It feels a bit like home being in the truck again, hitting the road. The car has been washed by the hotel’s staff, and its red colour now shines in the sun. It somehow doesn’t fit with Viggo, but he sure doesn’t mind the free car wash, I think.

“So, what will you do when you’re back home?” he asks me just outside of Paris.

“Look around for a new job first,” I tell him. “My old boss sacked me when I said I needed some time off. Can’t really blame him. But the term break isn’t over yet, and I need something to do.”

“How much longer will you study?”

“Not much longer. I’m almost done, it’s my final year.”

“And then?”

I shrug. “Don’t know yet. Apply somewhere, some big company. Depends on my degree.”

Viggo asks me some more about the general job situation in my country, and I tell him as best as I can. I usually don’t go on about topics like this, but Viggo’s genuinely interested, and the conversation feels good.

We drive through Belgium and soon enough, we reach The Netherlands. Time just flies by when travelling with Viggo. I’m wondering once more about the fact that I hardly know him. I mean, yes, he told me about his failed marriage, a bit about his art, I know his taste in music. I know how he got this scar on his upper lip and how he always fought with his brothers. But these are just small tidbits of his life, and I bet there’s much more to it. He’s such an amazing and interesting person, and it’s a shame I won’t get to know him much better. He makes me feel comfortable and I love to be with him; and for a moment, I wonder if I should simply tell him so. But what would that be good for? I decide to just enjoy what I have. Like roughly 24 more hours with him. And then, this part of my journey will be over, but a new one will begin.

We reach Amsterdam by late afternoon. Viggo knows a small hotel right in the centre of the town; I guess we left the camping stage of our relationship behind us. The hotel’s not as splendid as the George V, but it’s clean and cosy, and I like it. And though the bed is much smaller than the one I slept in the last two nights, it’s comfortable enough. And I think Viggo and I will test it later on, at least I hope so. He can’t let me go without a final fuck, no way.

Viggo sits down next to me on the mattress. “So Orlando,” he says, “what are we gonna do with what’s left of the day? Any idea?”

“Not really. Do you?”

He smirks, and if I didn’t know better, I’d classify it as an evil smirk. 

“’Course I got a plan.” He gets up and grabs my hand. “Come on, Orlando. Let’s do some shopping.”

 

~TBC~


	9. Amsterdam-Hamburg-Harwich-London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The higher they get, the further they fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _“Wild Horses”_ lyrics used in this chapter by Mick Jagger/Keith Richards.

Viggo can be wicked when he wants to. He dragged me along some canals at first and eventually, he stopped in front of a coffee shop.

“That alright with you?” He asked and I nodded, so we went in.

We’re sitting at the bar now, on our second joint already, and I’m comfortably high. I like the lazy atmosphere of this place and enjoy the people around us, who seem to be as relaxed as I am. And wow, the Dutch beer is good. But the best thing is the bag of M&M’s that’s lying on the counter. I watch Viggo take a few last puffs of the spliff until he stabs it out in the ashtray. Our hands touch as we both reach for the sweets as the same time.

“Hey, don’t be so greedy,” he teases me.

“Greedy, me? I got another impression last night, old man.” I grab a handful of M&M’s and make a show of dropping them into my mouth one by one.

“How do you eat them?” Viggo asks.

I stop my movements and giggle. “Wha…I put them into my mouth and use my teeth. How do you eat them? You inhale the stuff?”

Viggo chuckles. “Nah, that’s not what I meant. You know, everybody eats them differently. Do you just bite them or…”

“You want me to bite you?”

He chuckles some more before he goes on. “Or do you just, you know, lick around and then, well.”

“You’re sure we’re talking sweets here?”

“Just this once, yeah.”

“Ok then.” I take another of the small balls into my mouth and describe what I’m doing. “Guess I’m a licker. I lick the thin chocolate cover until it cracks. I then lick and suck the chocolate mass underneath until only the bare peanut is left. Which I chew.” I make an according munching sound.

Viggo nods. “That’s how I do it, too.”

“Wow. Looks as if we’re meant to be then.”

He smiles at me.

 

Shortly after, the sweets aren’t enough to satisfy our hunger, and we leave the coffee shop in search of a restaurant to dine in. We pass some sex shops on our way, and Viggo makes fun of the display, pointing to some cuffs wrapped with a furry something, leopard style.

“Want to tie me up with these?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“You know,” I answer, “you’re pretty submissive for a top. But I can ride you tonight, if you want to.” 

Viggo has a laughing fit and doesn’t calm down until we reach the Chinese restaurant he told me about.

 

Two duck dishes, several beers and another joint later, we’re lying on our bed in the small hotel, talking some more about completely random stuff. The telly is running in the background; and from time to time, one of us makes an unnecessary comment on the programme, causing both of us to laugh.

It’s a hot night and I already got rid of my shirt, a thin layer of sweat covers my chest. But I’m not sure if that’s only because of the heat. Viggo is rambling about some music video they’re showing on TMF, and his voice alone arouses me beyond belief. It’s raspy and sexy and I am high. The combination makes me open my zipper and reach down inside my pants.

Viggo turns his attention back to me. “What’re you doing?”

I shrug. “Just relaxing a bit,” I say nonchalantly, stroking my growing erection.

“I can see that…” He bends over. “Need any help?”

“Not really… I mean, I know how to do this, years of experience, you know. However, feel free to join in.”

“Well, if you don’t need me to…”

“Viggo, fuck, do it already!”

He shows me his evil smirk again and covers my mouth in a fiery kiss. His hand finds my cock, and I moan back into his cavern.

“Orlando,” he says breathlessly when we part, “your offer still stands?”

“Hmmm? Which?”

“Well,” he says and pinches my nipple, making me squirm underneath him, “you said you’d ride me.”

Now I’m smirking in an evil way. “I knew it. You *are* a submissive top, aren’t you?”

“Nah. Just too lazy to do the work every time.”

“Anyway.” I push Viggo away and reverse our positions. “I’ll mount you and straddle you and ride you, just like the unbridled stud you are.”

I bend down and start flipping the buttons of his shirt. I decide to accompany my actions with some off key singing.

_“I know I've dreamed you a sin and a lie  
I have my freedom but I don't have much time,”_ I chant while I shake the shirt off Viggo’s shoulders. 

He chuckles. “What’s that?”

“That, mister globetrotter, is my cultural heritage.”

“Aha.”

“Can I go on now?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, lift your hips for me?”

He does, and I continue singing while pushing his trousers down.

_“Faith has been broken tears must be cried  
Let's do some living after we die.”_

I quickly get up and get rid of my own trousers once Viggo’s lying naked in front of me.

_“Wild horses, couldn't drag me away  
Wild wild horses we'll ride them someday.”_

I fetch the lube and spread some of it into my palm. Finally, I crawl back on top of him, kneeling above his crotch. He lifts his head and watches as I push one finger into myself.

“Jesus, Orlando…”

“Since you’re too lazy to do the work…” 

I hear him pant as I close my eyes and concentrate on stretching myself for him. Once I’m prepared enough, I grab a condom, rip the foil open and apply the latex on Viggo. It’s the first time I touch his cock, and he shivers slightly. He moans when I coat him with lube, and anticipation makes me shiver now, too. 

_“Wild horses, couldn't drag me away  
Wild wild horses we'll ride them someday,”_ I sing the chorus a final time and slowly lower myself down onto Viggo.

I stop once he’s fully sheathed inside me. I force my eyes to open and meet Viggo’s. His jaw has dropped and he’s breathing heavily, steadying my hips with his hands. We both just stare at each other for a while, and I feel a warm wave of emotions running through my body. It’s a perfect moment and I want it to last. But it won’t, and when I feel Viggo’s cock throbbing inside me, I’m no longer sure I really want it to.

“Move,” he eventually whispers, and so I do.

I rock very slowly at first, letting our bodies reacquaint. 

“Help me,” I breathe, and then I feel Viggo’s strong hands cradling my ass again. I think that’s the place where they belong.

He bucks underneath me and thrusts inside me; one hard stroke. 

“Yes!” I shout, making Viggo repeat the movement. And again. And again.

We move in a perfect tandem, me riding him and him fucking me at the same time. I lean back a bit more and he hits my gland with his fiery thrusts. Jesus, that’s good. Fucking on weed is awesome anyway, getting fucked by Viggo is incredible, getting fucked by him while being high almost makes my head explode from sensory overload.

“Viggo, yes, come on,” I encourage him even further, not sure if I could really take any more. It’s too much already.

He starts fisting my cock, and that’s about it. I scream a whole cascade of obscenities as I come on top of him. He follows shortly after in almost the same manner, I make out “fuck” “come” and “shit” as he climaxes inside me.

What once was a thin layer of sweat is now a thick film on my body, documenting my effort to ride Viggo the way he wanted me to. I sigh and fall down on top of him.

“Orlando…” 

“Hm?”

“Could you…roll over?”

“Mh.” I reach between my legs and make sure the condom’s safe before I climb off Viggo. He gets up and uses the bathroom.

He’s got a towel in his hands when he returns. It’s damp and he uses it to wipe the come and sweat off my body.

“Hmmm, thanks,” I murmur. 

“Someone’s got to clean up the mess. I knew it’d be me who had to do the work, after all,” he says and lies back down next to me.

“Awww…poor Viggo,” I tease and move close to him.

He draws me in his arms and I sigh contently. 

“Viggo…I never thanked you properly.”

“I’d say you just did.”

“No, seriously. The last few days…I had the most wonderful time. I want to you to know that.”

“I do know, Orlando. And I feel the same.”

“I… I’m sad it’s over so soon, you know?” I’m about to babble, I realize, babble about things he maybe doesn’t want to hear. But I can’t help it, it’s just the way I’m feeling right now. “I mean… I’m not…I don’t want…”

“Shhh,” he silences me. “I know. It’s okay.”

But somehow, it’s not. It’s gnawing on me. “Viggo… you think we’ll ever meet again?” God, did I really say that? That’s awfully cheesy, and I feel Viggo tense slightly. At least I think I do.

“Orlando… everything’s possible.”

Ah yeah. But he’s right, of course. I really don’t know what to expect from him. Do I want him to promise me we’ll meet up again, knowing for sure it won’t happen? I know how these things end in reality. And any further discussion is rather unnecessary at this point.

“Yeah… who knows what might happen,” I say, as non-committing as possible.

He makes an approving sound and I fall silent. Viggo strokes and caresses my body until I fall asleep.

******

Viggo’s showering when I wake up the next morning. I yawn and stretch. It’s another beautiful day, we’re really lucky with the weather this summer. What makes the day even better is the fact that I have neither a hangover nor a headache.

“Hey,” Viggo greets me when he comes out of the bathroom. He kisses me good morning. “You can use the bathroom, if you want. I’d like to leave as soon as possible, we’ve still got some way to go.”

“Sure,” I say and get up.

I find Viggo sitting on the bed, writing something when I return. He looks up and quickly puts away whatever he was scribbling on. “Ready?” 

“Yeah.”

“Good. Let’s go then, we can grab some breakfast along the way.”

 

So this is it, the final stage of my journey with Viggo. The journey is the destination is what I told him on our very first day and I can’t think of anything better to describe our time together. 

We stop for petrol and breakfast about 50 miles outside of Amsterdam.

“You got anyone to pick you up from Harwich?” Viggo asks.

“Uhm… I haven’t though about that yet.”

“Is it far from London?”

“Not too far. I could ask my sister maybe.”

“Might be a good idea.”

There’s a public phone nearby and I dial Samantha’s number.

“Hello,” she answers the call.

“Sam, it’s me.”

“Orli! Where are you? How’s Africa?”

“Uhm…change of plans. I’ll tell you later once I’m home. Right now, I need to know if you could pick me up from Harwich tomorrow morning.”

“Harwich? But why…”

“I’ll explain everything once I’m there. Just tell me if you can make it. I’ll arrive at 9 am, by ferry.”

“Huh? What’ve you been up to, little brother?”

“Sam…please.” I get impatient. 

“Well, I think I could call in sick at work. 9 am, you say?”

“Yeah. It’s the ferry from Hamburg.”

“Ok. I’ll meet you at the dock then.”

“Cool. Thanks a lot, Sam. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay Orli. Take care.”

I hang up and return to Viggo. “Everything’s settled. My sister will pick me up.”

“That’s good,” he says and gets up.

 

We cross countries for the very last time and Viggo speeds up once we’re in Germany, since there’s no speed limit anymore. I watch the autobahn fly by and try not to think of being home so soon. I wonder if I missed anybody or anything during the last week and the answer is no. I could drive around like this forever. No, I have to stop this silly way of thinking, right now. I know my head will become clear once I’m back home for a couple of days.

And then, all of a sudden, we’re in Hamburg. We find the way to the ferry quite easy, and then we’re there, one hour early.

“One last coffee?” Viggo suggests and of course, I say yes.

We don’t talk very much. It’s not as if we don’t have anything left to say, it’s more that I’m afraid of what I might say. I don’t know if Viggo has the same problem, but he’s unusually silent, too. It makes me feel awkward, so I decide to bring up a rather neutral yet important topic.

“So, will you give me your bank account or something? I need to give you your money back.”

“Well… you don’t have to, Orlando.”

“No way, Viggo. I’m in your debt, and I will repay you.”

“It’s not that necessary. I’d like you to be my guest.”

“No. Please, Viggo, I want to. It would make me feel uncomfortable otherwise.” Somehow, our whole relationship sounds like a business agreement all of a sudden, which doesn’t make me feel any better.

“Ok then,” he finally says. “How about this. You give me your phone number and I’ll call you as soon as I’ve figured out the exact sum. Have to wait for my Visa bills first and all that, so it might take some time.”

It’s an easy way out for both of us. I scribble my number on a piece of paper he hands me, knowing the call will never come. “Here,” I say as I hand him the slip.

“Thanks,” he says and looks at it, pretending to memorize the number. “I’ll give you a call then.”

“Sure,” I say, very well aware he won’t. We both know it, but I also know it’s useless to try any harder. I don’t even suggest giving him the last of my cash. He would say I’d better save it for dinner or something on the ferry.

 

We finish our coffee, leave the small shop and I fetch my rucksack from the truck. Viggo accompanies me to the ferry.

“Well,” he says as we’ve reached the point that separates the passengers from the visitors.

“Guess that’s it, then,” I mumble.

“Yeah.”

“Give me a call if you ever come to Britain, will you?” 

“Sure.”

“And you’ll call me because of the money?”

“Yes.”

“Ok…” We both look at each other. 

“Come here,” he eventually says and draws me into his arms. I lay my head on his shoulder and inhale deeply, trying to get as much out of this moment as possible. He pats my back and I have only one wish in this very moment: that he’d never let me go.

But he does, if only to kiss me. I feel his tongue sliding across my lips and opening them, giving him the last chance to be inside me.

I have to hold back the tears when we part. Silly, Bloom, get a grip, I scold myself. I will not cry, I will not cry. I won’t end this in the most embarrassing way possible.

“Goodbye, Viggo,” I force myself to say and even manage to smile a bit.

“Goodbye, Orlando,” he says, hugs me for a last time and lets go. Guess I have to leave now.

I turn around, like in slow motion, and walk towards the point of embarkation. My heart takes a double turn when I hear Viggo calling out my name. I turn around and see him jogging towards me. Would he…

“I forgot something,” he says, and waves around something in front of my eyes.

“Oh?”

“Here.” He hands me a book. “Just…I mean, it’s a rather long journey, and I thought… well, if you need some kind of entertainment, you know.”

It wasn’t what I had hoped for somewhere in the back of my mind, but it’s nice anyway. “Thanks, Viggo.”

He smiles. “Have a safe trip.”

“I will. Bye.” And that’s it.

 

A steward welcomes me on board, asking me for my ticket. I explain I haven’t got one yet, but I booked my place, seat, whatever, from Paris. He leads me to the front desk where a nice lady wants to see my papers. I hand her my temporary passport and wait while she types on her computer. 

“Ah, yes, Mr Bloom,” she eventually says. “It’s cabin 121 for you. Andrew here will show you the way.”

Cabin? 

The steward takes my rucksack and proceeds. Guess I have to follow him.

I should’ve known it. My cabin’s on the top deck and there’s a sign at its entrance: “First class passengers only.” Andrew opens the door saying 121, and I shake my head while I enter. It’s as spacious as possible under the given circumstances. There’s a double bed, a small sitting area, and a large bathroom. Viggo must be crazy.

“Dinner in the à-la-carte restaurant starts in one and a half hours, Mr Bloom. A table’s been reserved for you already, everything’s been taken care of. If you have any further questions, ring the bell and myself or another steward will answer it.”

“Ok. Thanks, Andrew.”

I sit down on the bed after he leaves me, unsure of what to do. I feel all lost and alone. The barking of the ship’s siren brings me back into reality. Guess we’re ready to go. I hurry out of my cabin, onto the deck. I can see the pier, but no sight of the familiar red truck. Viggo’s gone. And finally, the tears come and I don’t even try to hold them back anymore. 

 

Since dinner’s been paid for already, I decide to order a bottle of wine all for myself. I have the feeling that I’ll need a good amount of alcohol before I’ll be able to sleep tonight. I pay the ferry’s cinema a visit after dinner, watching a comedy that doesn’t make me laugh. At 11 pm, I decide to go back into my cabin.

Sleep won’t come. My thoughts drift back to Viggo all the time and I wonder where he is, what he’s doing right now. I wonder if he misses me as well, at least a little bit. I wonder at which point of our journey I fell in love with him. I wonder why I hadn’t realized it earlier. I wonder if it would’ve changed anything if I had. I wonder how long it will take me to get over him.

I remember the book he gave me and pull it out of my rucksack. It’s a small volume full of poetry and I’m surprised to find that it’s Viggo’s own poetry. He never told me he writes, but there’s so much I don’t know about him and will never find out. I skip the introductory pages and begin to read. His words are sad and melancholy, and I need to read some of the poems more than one time to get them. 

I don’t know why I’m torturing myself like this. And I also don’t know why Viggo decided to give me this book in the first place. Maybe he had no idea that it would make me sad reading his words, his thoughts? Or maybe he figured it would make me feel as if he was still with me… more wishful thinking, I guess.

Something falls out of the book. It’s a picture. I hold my breath when I look at it. It’s me, sitting on this rock during our stop in northern Spain. It’s the picture he took right after I kissed him for the very first time, and I remember that I thought about wanting a copy of it. I got it now and take a closer look. I’m wearing Viggo’s hat and though I’m not smiling, I ooze happiness. I sigh and turn the picture around. There’s something written on the back, and I read:

“Orlando, you were right. I am a chicken. I’m so sorry, but I wasn’t able to help you or me and chose the easy way out instead. I hope you’ll understand and won’t make the same mistake once your chance comes. Don’t let it pass. Love, Viggo.”

My vision gets all blurry as I start crying again. I have no idea when I changed into this sappy fool, but the hurt that announced itself over the last day already now hits me with full force.

 

******

 

Sam hugs me tightly and I let her hold me for a while. It’s good to feel her familiar embrace.

“Hey… are you okay?” I hear the concern in her voice.

“I’m not sure,” I tell her when she lets go of me.

“What happened, Orlando? You look… have you cried? Did somebody hurt you?”

“Well… let’s get to the car, okay? I’ll tell you everything on our way, I promise. Just get me back to London, okay?”

“Uhm sure… why are you in a hurry? You got some kind of appointment?”

“Kinda. Let’s just go, yeah?”

She nods and we leave the dock.

 

I tell her everything during the ride, as promised. She doesn’t interrupt me more than necessary, just asking me to elaborate every now and then. Which I do without doubt. She’s my sister, I trust her and I need to tell somebody. I need somebody to understand. And I know she does.

“So you don’t regret that you never got the chance to see Africa, I guess?”

I shake my head. “No. I had no need to. Viggo showed me a whole new world without us ever leaving the continent.”

She nods. “Ok. Where should I drop you off then?”

“At my place, I need to change and fetch some things. And then, if possible…” I pause.

“I know, Orlando,” she interrupts me. “I understand. And I’ll help you.” 

“Thanks.”

I lean back and we let the last few miles to my flat pass in silence. I’ve made up my mind. My journey isn’t over yet. 

 

~TBC~

 


	10. Final Destination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey isn't over yet.

So here I am, back where I started out about a week ago: on a plane. But there’s no girl sitting next to me this time and I’m not heading south, either. 

It’s really great to have a big sister like Sam. She’s just the best. Once we arrived at my flat, I took a shower, changed and packed some fresh clothes into my rucksack while she made a couple of phone calls. Using her credit card, she organized everything: the plane ticket to Copenhagen plus the railway ticket from there to Odense.

“You’re sure about this?” She asked only once and didn’t argue with me when I told her I was dead serious. She drove me to Heathrow. We exchanged some of her money so I wouldn’t be more helpless than necessary in Denmark and I boarded the plane shortly after.

 

The flight takes about 2 hours, and I’m nibbling on my thumb almost constantly. I don’t really know what I’ll do once I’m in Denmark, to be honest… I don’t even know if I’ll find Viggo. But from what Sam told me, Odense isn’t that big, and somebody surely can tell me where this exhibition takes place. At least I hope so. But what will I do once I’ve found him? Oh my. 

It’s one hour later in Denmark than it is in England, but since I’m still used to mainland Europe time, I don’t really notice it. I didn’t even reset my watch during my short stay in Britain.

It’s almost 8 pm when I finally arrive in Odense. I should be tired from all the travelling I’ve done today, but the adrenaline that’s rushing through my body keeps me awake and bouncy. Maybe I’m about to do the silliest thing ever, but I have to do it to be sure, don’t I?

 

There are some taxis waiting in front of the railway station and I approach the first in the queue.

“Excuse me, do you speak English?” I ask the driver, a woman about 30.

“Sure,” she answers. “Get in. Where can I drop you off?”

Ok then. Let’s hope this works as planned.

“Well, this might sound a bit strange,” I begin. “There’s an exhibition by one Viggo Mortensen that opens here tonight. Is there any chance you might know where?”

She giggles a bit. “Of course I know! It’s at the Klædefabrik, not too far from here.” 

I’m a lucky guy, I decide as she starts the engine. 

“Oh, I envy you,” she says.

“Sorry?” 

“I heard some members of the Royal Family might be there, maybe you’ll even see the Queen?”

What the fuck?

“Uhm… what are you talking about?” I ask, and it would be a massive understatement to say I’m confused.

“Why, the exhibition of course!” she babbles on. “You’re so lucky to go to the opening… there was a lottery at our local radio station where they had some tickets as prizes, but I didn’t get one. Oh my, you’ll meet Viggo Mortensen.”

“You… you know Viggo?” I’m actually shocked now, too shocked to come up with a better question.

“Of course I do. My, where are you from? He’s like the greatest artist ever. A national icon for us Danes. You should know that, since you have an invitation for the gala opening.”

“Uhm… sure.” I swallow hard. Gala opening? National icon? And the fucking Queen? My body’s shaking as I slowly realize what’s going on here. And suddenly, I’m very afraid. I remember what Viggo told me the other night:

_I mean, you might love somebody, but you just can’t stay with the person for whatever reasons. Different lives, whatever._

Jesus, Viggo. 

“Ok, here we go,” the woman says as she stops in front of a huge building. I pay her and leave the taxi. 

I look the building up and down. There’s a huge banner announcing Viggo’s exhibition and I take a deep breath as I approach the entrance. I’m nervous as hell, but I have to do this. I haven’t come all the way to back off now, just because I found out that Viggo is some kind of celebrity in the art scene…oh, better not think about it now.

I don’t get very far. There’s a man standing in front of the doors, and he doesn’t look amused as I get closer.

“Excuse me,” I say and try to get past him.

He eyes me from head to toes. I wear dark trousers and an ordinary T-shirt; hell, nobody told me I’d go to a reception with some Royals.

“Could I see your invitation, please?” He doesn’t sound as if he truly expects me to have one.

“Uhm… I don’t have one. But see, I’m a friend of Viggo, and I really need to…”

“Sure you are.” He flashes a fake smile at me, before his face gets all serious again. “No invitation, no admittance.”

Now, if I believed in good luck, I might see this as a good sign. Last time somebody refused me entrance was back in Gibraltar, and I met Viggo shortly after. But I prefer to believe in action rather than in fate, so I try again.

“I am a friend of Viggo’s,” I begin, “it’s true. Please go and check for yourself, ask him. My name’s Orlando Bloom, and I really need to see him.”

He doesn’t even answer me. 

“Hey! I’m talking to you, you… are you even listening?” My voice rises, and I’m getting angry now. Shock, confusion, fear and all the adrenaline, it’s too much and I might explode any second. 

The man makes a grunting noise. “Please clear the premises,” he eventually says and starts pushing me.

“Hey! Let go of me!” I yell. “Let…me…in,” I pant while trying to keep a stand against the man.

“Is there a problem, Sven?” A female voice suddenly asks and the gorilla lets go off me. 

“Some kid who claims he knows Mr Mortensen. Just the usual stalking art student, I guess.”

“I’m not a…” I start, when the woman silences me with a wave of her hand she’s holding a walkie-talkie in.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m Denise, the gallery’s trustee. If you don’t have an invitation, you can’t get in. Security reasons and all that, I’m sure you understand. The exhibition will be opened for public from tomorrow on.”

Ok, she’s polite, but that doesn’t help me at all. “But I’m a friend of Viggo’s and it’s important, I really need to see him. Just go and ask him, and he’ll tell you.”

“Sorry. Mr Mortensen is too busy right now. Come back tomorrow. And please leave now.” She turns and starts walking back inside.

“Please,” I try one last time, “just ask him! I’m Orlando Bloom, and he’ll tell you it’s okay!”

She stops all of a sudden and comes back to me.

“You’re name’s Orlando?” She asks, knitting her brow.

“Yes.” I fumble in my rucksack and show her my temporary passport. “See? Orlando Bloom.”

“Orlando? Hmmm… that’s interesting…” she muses. She looks me up and down and seems to think hard. “Ok, come with me then.”

Oh god, I could kiss her. I can’t resist flashing Sven an accomplished smile as we get past him and enter the building.

Denise leads me to a small room once we’re inside. She says something Danish into her walkie-talkie and addresses me once she’s finished.

“Ok, Mr Bloom, for whatever it’s worth, I’ll let you in. But not like this.”

The door opens and a liveried servant appears. He hands me a white shirt, a black dinner jacket and a tie. I look at him in amazement. 

Denise can’t hold back a small giggle. “It’s an important night tonight, and just in case one of our guests who actually has an invitation isn’t aware of it…well, as you can see, we’re prepared for every scenario. So please, if you could change now, I hope the clothes fit. I’ll be waiting outside. Just put your own things down on the chair over there. And you can leave your rucksack in here as well, it’s safe.”

“Ok. Thanks, Denise.”

 

I hurry as much as I can. Denise nods approvingly when I come out of the small room.

“Much better. Please follow me now, Mr Bloom.”

My heart beats like crazy when we enter the main room of the gallery. I stop for some seconds to look at the scene in front of my eyes. The room’s divided into different compartments. The huge walls are covered by paintings and photographs and if these are all Viggo’s, he’s quite a busy man. The floor is crowded with people. And it really looks like an elegant crowd. There are more liveried servants running around, wearing plates with what I guess is champagne. A mix of chatter and soft piano music fills the air.

“This way please, Mr Bloom,” Denise eventually brings me back. I nod and follow her as she’s making her way through the crowd.

I think I might faint any minute, seriously. We eventually stop in front of a small group of people and Denise clears her throat. 

“Excuse me, Mr Mortensen? Here’s somebody who wants to meet you.”

And then he turns around.

I almost don’t recognize him. He looks amazing. He’s wearing a tux, a bow tie, shiny shoes and stuff like that. So very different from the Viggo I’ve spent the last days with. 

“Orlando…” he stutters, “what…are you…how…” 

I don’t know if he’s confused, shocked, happy or even a bit annoyed, maybe a good mix of all. And I can’t even blame him. 

“Well, it’s funny,” I begin babbling without thinking first. ‘Cause if I stay silent for one more second, fear might take over and send me into complete muteness. “So I’m driving back from Harwich to London, yeah? And I tell my sister all this stuff about this guy I met in Spain…and she asks me your name and I tell her; she then asks me what you’re doing and I tell her, though I think that I got some kind of wrong impression from what you’ve told me…anyway, thing is, when she asks me how old you are, I realize I have no idea.”

The people around us stare at me with their mouths open and Viggo looks even more confused now. 

“I’m 41,” he mumbles eventually. 

“Aha. And I’m 23. Glad we straightened that out.” 

God, Bloom. I’d slap myself, if it wouldn’t make the whole situation even worse. I’m a complete idiot and just made the biggest fool of myself. I can hardly look at Viggo any longer, let alone touch or even kiss him. This whole situation is so surreal…

Viggo blinks. “Orlando…what are you doing here?” he asks again. He then reaches out and touches my arm, as if he’s not believing his eyes alone.

I look down at his hand resting on my arm. The touch is what I needed, it gives me back my reassurance. I take a step towards him and turn my voice down, since my next words are for him alone.

“I’m here because you told me not to let my chance pass. I’m here because I want more of you. I’m here because I won’t let you take the easy way out, Viggo. Not this time.”

I hear him inhaling deeply when I lean back again. He closes his eyes briefly and nods at me when he opens them again.

“Alright,” he says softly, “I think we need to talk. But…I can’t leave just yet.”

“That’s okay. I won’t go anywhere. It’s not as if I’ve got another declaration to make tonight.”

And now he smiles at me, this wonderful smile I’ve fallen in love with, and that’s the moment I know I’ve done the right thing. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he says. 

“I told you not to underestimate me, old man. Though it wasn’t that easy to get through to you. I mean, you’re like…a big star, not easy to get hold of.”

“Yeah…how did you do that? How did you get in here?”

“Uhm…good question. This woman, Denise, I think she knew my name. You told her about me?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“But how…”

“I think I know.” He turns to the people standing next to him. We’ve lost their attention at some point, but Viggo excuses himself anyway. He then takes my hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

He drags me across the gallery, holding my hand all the time. Some of the people who cross our way try to catch Viggo’s attention, but he just nods and smiles at them without being bothered, making me feel all special and important; and proud of him, of this man everybody wants their share of. 

We finally stop in front of a wall showing some of Viggo’s photographs.

“I made some changes here this morning,” he says, “and of course, I had to tell Denise about it. Look.”

He points towards the pic that’s displayed on perfect eye level. It’s another one from our small stop in Spain. It shows me, sitting on this rock, wearing Viggo’s hat, my back turned towards the camera. The sun is standing straight above me and it almost looks as if it’s shining down on me alone.

And the pic has a title: _Longing: Orlando, Spain._

“God, Viggo,” I whisper. “Why didn’t you…” I begin, but stop when I turn and look at his face. He’s biting his lower lip, looking scared and nervous all of a sudden. And I don’t care about all these people anymore; don’t care what they think about me or Viggo. He’s the only one I care about right now, and I can’t stand to see this heart-wrenching look on his face for one more second. Without thinking twice, I take his face in my hands and kiss him, right there.

And he kisses me back. He fucking kisses me back.

It’s a short kiss, though. We part and I still hold his face in my hands, letting my thumbs run along his jaw line.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he breathes against my face. I lean my forehead against his and just sigh.

We both stay like this for some moments, completely losing the concept of time and space. 

Viggo eventually clears his throat and I lean back.

“Uhm, I’m afraid I have to…”

“It’s okay, Viggo. I’ll stay here, don’t worry. I just needed you to know. Do whatever you’ve got to do now. There’ll be time for us later…I hope.”

“There will be. Plenty of it.”

“Okay then. I’ll just…uhm…look around a bit, I guess.”

Viggo chuckles. “No way.” He takes one of my hands and squeezes it. “You’ll stay right by my side.”

 

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. I meet lots of people, and Viggo introduces me to what must be half of the population of Denmark. He always introduces me as his friend, but since we’re holding hands all the time, I guess people get a pretty clear picture what kind of friend he’s talking about. And nobody seems to be offended or shocked. The people are all polite and friendly and stick to a conversation in English once they realize I don’t speak any Danish.

I even meet some members of the Royal family, but don’t ask me for any more specific information. I don’t recall anything other than Viggo standing close to me, Viggo holding my hand and never letting go, Viggo stroking my back from time to time or caressing me in whichever way possible under the given circumstances.

“Wanna leave?” he asks me some time later, and I nod eagerly.

“Can you leave already?”

“Sure. Let’s get out of here.”

Denise catches us on our way to the room my stuff is still in. Viggo talks to her for a few moments, and she just nods understandingly. 

“Goodbye Mr Bloom,” she then says. “And I’m sorry about that misunderstanding earlier.”

“Oh please, no reason to apologize. I’m sorry for causing all this confusion. And I have to thank you in the first place for letting me in.”

She smiles at me. “Well… have a good night gentlemen.”

Oh, I hope we will.

 

A black stretch limousine is waiting for us outside of the hall. 

“What…where’s the red truck? I’m a bit disappointed now,” I tease while we get in.

“Time for travelling incognito is over, I’m afraid.”

“So’s the time for travelling alone, Viggo.”

He smiles again. And leans over to kiss me. His hands caress my face while his tongue searches my mouth in an almost desperate way, as if he still can’t believe I’m with him. 

The trip to the hotel is very short. It’s the Clarion Plaza and no, I’m not the least bit surprised.

“I think you still have some explaining to do, Mr Mortensen,” I comment while he opens to door to his room.

“Mh-hm.” 

We sit down on a very comfortable couch.

“I never asked for all this, Orlando,” he opens what I’ve already dubbed ‘The Talk’.

“For what exactly? Talent? Fame? Wealth?”

“All of it.”

“But well, since you apparently got it all, why hide it?” It’s not that easy to understand for me. I mean, I’m a student who has to work during term break and all that and Viggo…well. 

“I didn’t hide it…”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Ok, yes, maybe I did. I need to from time to time, just to be free, you know? This probably sounds very silly, but well, that’s how I am.”

“It doesn’t sound silly, Viggo, I just want to understand you. To get to know you. So why didn’t you tell me?”

“How? What should I’ve told you? Listen, Orlando, I’m not this shabby hippie you think I am, am a famous artist with a couple of million bucks stored away? Something like that?”

“Uhm…” Ok, he made a point.

He sighs. “I didn’t tell you because…I thought there was no reason. I mean…I wanted you to…”

“…to get to know and like you, not your money?” I finish for him, and he nods. “Which would imply that you…that my opinion is important to you? That you like me as well?” I dare to ask.

“Yes,” he admits, “of course. How could I not? You’re gorgeous. You’re…amazing.”

“Why did you let me go then?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. Fear, worry, old behaviour. I told you. Afraid of getting attached to something that might fail anyway.”

“But how do you know, Viggo? Jesus, if you never try it, how will you ever find out? Is it better to mourn something you never had than to maybe, just maybe, regret something you actually had?”

“I just didn’t want to make either of us…unhappy.”

“You did that already. By sending me away. And were you happy after I left?”

“No,” he admits. “But you never said you’d like to stay with me, did you?”

“I didn’t dare. I didn’t realize it would hurt so much. I…Viggo, I just don’t want to give all this up yet. I mean, I still need to know so much more about you. And there are things you can find out about me, too. If that’s what you want. Still plenty of time to get rid of me at a later point.”

“I’m not sure if that’s what I want anymore. Getting rid of you, I mean.” 

“Keep me then.”

He touches my face again. “You came all the way over here, you must be crazy.”

“Crazy for you, yeah.”

Viggo leans over and kisses me. I open my mouth almost instantly; I’m so hungry for his touch. I need the action to stress our words, to confirm our still young and fragile deal.

Viggo moans when my tongue takes over the kiss. I start pulling the shirt out of his trousers. As stunning as he looks, there are far too many buttons on him today. It’s kinda annoying.

“Let me help,” Viggo breathes and I let go off him. He opens his bow tie and tosses it away. I shrug my jacket off while he takes off his tux.

“Bed?” Viggo asks and I nod. We get up and move over to the bed, opening buttons and flies at the same time.

“Make love to me,” I say when Viggo joins me on the mattress. And for the first time in my life, this expression doesn’t sound cheesy to me.

“Yes.”

His answer alone is worth everything that happened. Maybe it was necessary for me to go back to England first, who knows. Maybe Viggo needed this kind of proof or whatever you want to call it. Maybe he needed me to follow him, to show him I was serious and optimistic that we might share more than barely a week on the road.

“I’m so glad you came,” he tells me once more, before he captures my mouth in another kiss. He’s lying on top of me now, his erection brushing against my stomach.

“Me too,” I answer softly when we part. I reach for his cock and encircle it with my hand. 

Viggo moans and it’s so sexy. I already know he won’t hold back anything tonight. 

He frees himself from my touch and fetches lube from somewhere near the bed. I realize it’s my own tube, and I wonder when he nabbed it from me. I don’t wonder why he kept it, though. It’s so sweet I have to smile.

“What?” he asks as he coats his fingers.

“That’s mine…”

Viggo blushes. “Well…strange kind of souvenir, I guess.”

“It’s sweet. You’re sweet. Now come back here.”

He resumes his position half on top of me. 

“I will make you come again,” he promises as one of his fingers is circling my hole. 

“I hope you will,” is the last I manage before he enters me, making me lost for more words.

It feels so damn good to have Viggo inside me again. And yes, it’s true what I thought earlier. It was worth everything. Sometimes you don’t know what you got before you lose it. And that’s what we both needed to realize first. For different reasons, but still.

Viggo adds another finger and as paradox as it might sound, I can suddenly speak again.

“Oh Viggo, yes,” I whimper when he hits my gland, lets go and thrusts again.

“You’re ready? ‘Cause Orlando…I can’t wait much longer…”

“I’m ready, yes. Please.” 

He withdraws, but I know the loss I feel will be a very temporary one. He quickly puts a condom on and squeezes the lube again – it’s mine I think again and I guess it will take a time until I let him live that down.

“I wanted you all evening, ever since I saw you in the gallery,” Viggo whispers when he climbs back onto me. He takes my legs and puts them over his shoulders. “Wanted you…so much,” he says while he kisses the inside of my thighs, “so very much.” He slowly moves his hips until I feel the tip of his cock pressing against my entrance. “Kiss you, touch you. Feel you. Make love to you.”

“Do it, Viggo. Show me.”

He slowly pushes in and does exactly that.

 

No frenzy fucking, no hard and mindless shagging. No awkward but nice in and out pushing like at the beginning of our very first time. The sex is just good as it is, I can’t describe it any better. And I don’t want to. I just want to keep it in mind as what it was: a wonderful, indescribable experience.

And the way he’s touching me afterwards makes me feel even more content, if possible.

“So I guess Pierre isn’t your friend?” I break our post coital silence. “It’s more that you’re like his best customer or what?”

“Nah, we are friends, I didn’t lie to you. I just sometimes…give him some of my stuff for his hotel. He says it’s good for his rep, Paris being all artsy and that.”

“He shows off with your art?”

“Kinda, yes.”

We both laugh.

“So, when exactly does your term start again?” He asks once we calm down.

“In two weeks. And before you ask: no, I’ve never been to Denmark before.”

Viggo smirks and kisses the tip of my nose. “And what then? When your break is over?”

“Hmmm….I have to finish my studies. And search for a job afterwards, like I told you. Maybe I’ll find a crazy artist who needs somebody to take care of his finances.”

“I might be able to help you find one.”

“I bet you might. But what about you, Viggo? Ever been to England? London’s beautiful in autumn, you know.”

“Well, I’d need some kind of guide, I guess.”

“I might be able to help you find one.”

“I bet you might.”

Viggo’s still caressing me, just like all the nights before, ever since we added sex to our relationship. I really should have realized it earlier. He was never belittling me like I feared some days ago. It was his way of showing he cares. Strange, but well, there will be much more for both of us to learn about each other.

But there’s one thing I’ve learned already.

Some journeys never end. 

 

~THE END~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Click here to see beautiful fanart inspired by this fic ("Orlando's picture")](http://fics-n-lube.livejournal.com/12313.html) :))


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